Cold Rain
by tarheelveteran
Summary: While flooding rains plague Miami, a meteorologist dies in a mysterious car crash. Meanwhile, another accident finds Horatio and Emmie stranded and missing in the Florida wilderness.
1. Blood Red Sky

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of CSI Miami or its intellectual properties. I own only my OC's. I will, however, take Rick Stetler. **

**A/N: This is out of line with my Emmie Stockburne/Wolfe series, taking place between More Than Just Words and A Monster's Ball. Originally I decided to leave this out because it would be hypocritical of me to talk about all the things that happen to Calleigh while I'm doing the same to my OC. But it's one of my favorites, so what the heck. For that reason, Ryan and Emmie are still single but have eyes on each other. **

**A special shout-out to Storyloverandteller101. Hope this keeps you busy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1—Blood Red Sky<strong>

Angela Miller watched the waves of rain flutter over the picture window while she draped the black raincoat over her husband's shoulders. He fussed with his cell phone as he poked each arm into the sleeves. "Thanks, hon."

The petite, blonde-haired woman stared blankly at the storm that had plagued Miami for several days now. "I swear. I'm looking for an ark to go floating by" she moaned, shaking her head. She flinched when lightning flickered through the palm trees and thunder cracked again. "And this isn't letting up anytime soon, is it, Mr. Weatherman?"

Eric Miller shrugged with a tired smile. "I just checked the Doppler on line. We might get a break in another hour, but that's it."

His wife smirked. "We've already got a swimming pool in our yard now. You're the weather man. Can't you make it go away?"

"Wish I could. I get tired of this too. The man stiffened up when his phone chirped. He glanced at it and then flipped it open. "This is Eric. Hi. Yeah, I got the message. On my way in now for the five o'clock coverage. Gonna be a slow go because some of the roads are flooding. Yeah, just, just tell Melissa to hang tight. I know she's tired. Yeah, I-. I know, Larry." He dipped his head and put up his hand, his raincoat rustling with his every move. "Yeah. Been following the storm at home." He nodded his head now. "Look, we'll talk more when I get in, okay? For God's sake, Larry. The longer I stand here and talk to you, the later I'm gonna be. I'll see you when I get there!" Without another word he popped his cell phone shut and sighed deeply. "Sorry, honey, but with the flash flood warnings, we're looking at a late night. Be okay by yourself?"

She shrugged just as tiredly. "I'll be okay. Smokey's here to protect me." She nodded at the lazy old Wimaraner that cocked its head curiously and then settled back down to sleep.

Eric Miller donned his brown rain hat and turned up his collar. He then gave his wife a gentle kiss. "Well, don't wait up for me, honey. I'll call you before I leave. And I'll put everything back in your car when I get home."

Angela Miller's face suddenly became urgent. "That's okay. Just be careful."

Eric Miller backed out of the driveway in his wife's white Chevy Lumina as the sheets of rain pounded loudly and threateningly on the roof. The wind was picking up again as the wipers screeched across the windshield. Though it was still afternoon, the dark, thick clouds darkened the sky enough to look like nightfall. He glanced up momentarily at the sky that floated from west to east, blocking out the Florida sunshine, seeming to hold the world at its mercy. For at least three days now a system plumed from west to east over South Florida, having dumped almost six inches of rain on Miami by now.

He gently placed his brown rain hat on the seat next to him as his blue eyes scanned the wet two-lane road. Without thinking he picked his foot up from the accelerator to let the car gently glide through standing water, engaging it again when he was safely on the other side. As he slowed down for the wet traffic light, he did notice that the brake seemed a little soft. Had to have been the moisture, he thought. Everything felt strange in Angela's car. But with his own car in the shop, this would have to do, he thought.

When the light changed, he let his foot off the brake and continued on through the driving rain.

Eric eased his foot off the accelerator as the two-lane road curved suddenly. He had taken this curve hundreds of times, so he thought nothing of it as he tapped the brake gently.

His foot went completely to the floor as the car kept moving forward.

Panic set in now. The weatherman stiffened up and gripped the wheel with both hands as he stomped the brake pedal several times. Nothing happened. Reflexively he swung the steering wheel as his heart quaked, trying desperately to stay within the deep curve. The car's tires squealed in protest as he found himself pinned against the driver's side door.

Before he knew what happened, a brown river of water jumped into his headlights. Within seconds his whole world spun and tumbled as the Lumina flew off the road and slammed sideways against the tree trunk with a deafening crash.

As the wrecked car stood still, Eric Miller convulsed in the shock of the cold rain that doused him now, washing the broken glass down to his feet in the dark. The car's horn screamed as though trying to tell the world about its owner's pain and fear.

Within seconds he bowed his head. Blood ran from his mouth as he closed his eyes one last time.

* * *

><p>Ryan Wolfe and Eric Delko waded carefully through the mud under the spotlights, sweeping the wet, torn sawgrass with their flashlights.<p>

The crumpled, muddy Lumina had been pulled back from the tree that now leaned sideways from the impact. Lakes of broken glass now littered the inside. Papers, water and mud had pooled by Eric Miller's feet. One of his black shoes had flown off in the impact and rested near the accelerator. The wrecked car itself was dark except for the distant spotlights.

"Good thing the rain let up" Eric said tiredly, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the wreck. "Starting to think I might need my diving gear for this. Hope the flooding didn't wash away too much of our crime scene."

Ryan smirked. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Looks like we're gonna be sifting through the mud for this one. And with everybody else in Clearwater right now."

Frank Tripp trudged through the mud, his face flickering in the flashing police car lights. He pointed behind him with his thumb.

"Passing motorist called in. Eric Miller. Chief Meteorologist with WTVM here in Miami. Officers are on their way to talk to his family. I called the station. They said he was on his way to work. Said he's on overtime because of the flooding."

Eric Delko furrowed his eyebrows. "Eric Miller? Yeah. Seen him on TV. Wow."

Frank nodded. "Looks like he just ran off the road. Nobody else was around. Spoke with some of the other officers here. Doesn't look like he was trying to avoid anything. Had all his ID on him." Frank now stood with his hands on his hips and looked up at the sky. "I'm gonna get on the phone to Clearwater and let Horatio know about this one. Could turn out to be a high-profile case." With that he stepped carefully away.

Ryan grunted and rubbed his face tiredly.

"What's the matter, Wolfe? Don't like pulling all this overtime?"

He sighed deeply. "I'll be glad when that thing's over in Clearwater and we're back on full staff."

Delko gave him a knowing grin. "You just want to see Emmie again, don't you?"

The younger CSI glanced at him and then turned his attention back to the muddy crime scene.

"You really ought to tell her how you feel about her" Delko insisted, never looking at him.

"Sort of like you and Calleigh?" he shot back.

Delko now stood behind Alexx, who braced herself carefully in the mud as she studied the slumped-over weather forecaster.

"Yeah, that's Eric Miller all right. Find anything, Alexx?"

The M.E. turned toward him carefully so as not to lose her footing in the mud. "I can say for sure that our weather forecaster died from the impact." With her gloved hands she gently tipped his wet, bloody head upward and made a semicircular motion around the red wound in his black hair. "Looks like his head hit the dash at the same time his neck broke. On top of that, he broke just about every rib. I should probably say what _didn't_ he break? He hit that steering wheel pretty hard." She looked at the red mask on his sleeping face. "You didn't have airbags in this thing, did you, Sweetie? They might have saved your life."

Ryan now stepped behind Alexx, who continued to probe her newest post. "Looks like this thing had airbags, but they just didn't deploy."

Delko now stepped back out onto the dark road, shining his flashlight along the pavement. "No skid marks anywhere. Wait a second." His flashlight wandered up and down now. "Sideways. Guy must've hydroplaned off the road. But he didn't hit the brakes."

Ryan nodded as his flashlight followed the brown mud trail. "Didn't even use his emergency brake. He flipped over and landed right here. Probably gonna have to tow this thing back to the lab to see what happened."

Carefully Delko followed the tire marks. He shook his head. "Sorry Wolfe, but we're gonna have to work on this one before the rain starts up again."

The younger CSI sighed. "Why? What did you find?"

"New car? No airbags? No brakes? Not sure this was an accident."


	2. The Call

**A/N: I really want to thank everyone for all the great reviews and adding my story to alerts and favorites. I decided to go ahead and post the next chapter today and hope to have the next one tomorrow.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2—The Call<strong>

Horatio chatted with some out-of-town acquaintances when he felt his cell phone vibrate on his waist. He immediately stiffened up and checked the number. "Excuse me."

Stepping away from the table he flipped it open. "Caine." His back to the table, he held his head up and paced along the aisle as he listened. "I see. Eric Miller? Are you sure? I would agree. Did Alexx find out anything?" He dipped his eyes thoughtfully now. "Well, it sounds like we all better head back tomorrow then. Calleigh is leaving early. Emmie and I can ride back together. Send me any information we can process from here. I'm gonna go look for Emmie just in case we can do anything on this end. Okay, Frank. Keep me posted." With that he snapped his cell phone shut.

He walked back to the table now. "Gentlemen, there's been a slight change in plans. I need to get a hold of my team so we can get back to Miami tomorrow. Looks like we have a high-profile case." With that he left.

* * *

><p>Emmie Stockburne sniffed as she stared out the window of the hotel room. The rippling of the wind and rain was now blocking her view of Old Tampa Bay. "Calleigh, tell me why they call Florida the Sunshine State again? Seems like it rains here more than Seattle" she muttered.<p>

Calleigh shrugged matter-of-factly as she swept her hair back. "Welcome to Florida. Just a spell of bad weather."

"Yeah. Three days is one heck of a spell, though."

The ballistics expert tried to maintain her upbeat mood as she sat down on the bed. "Emmie, what's bothering you? You were fine this afternoon when you were working the cybercrimes exhibit."

Emmie shrugged and leaned back in the striped armchair. "I don't know. Maybe the weather's just getting me down. Not really sure. You know?"

"Hey, come on. They're having an eighties dance party downstairs. Maybe that'll cheer you up. I mean, you like that stuff, don't you? Lots of single cops from all over the state."

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry I'm in such a bad mood."

"Is it because Ryan couldn't be here?" she asked with a knowing grin as she closed the door firmly behind them.

"I suppose. Well, Eric couldn't be here either, right?"

Calleigh looked at her. "Right. So we just make the best of it."

Emmie and Calleigh now stood at the doorway of the covered veranda. Beyond the covering, the pounding rain bounced on the pool deck while the band vibrated the floors and the walls with an old familiar Whitesnake song.

"I'm gonna go talk to some people" Calleigh hollered into Emmie's ear above the music. "I'll see you up in the room." Emmie nodded. "Have fun." With that she disappeared into the bobbing, dancing crowd.

She simply stood and stared at everything for a little while. "Yeah, I guess I can have a little fun" she said to herself. It had been about this long since she had been to a dance club.

The annual Law Enforcement Convention was being held in Clearwater this year. It was her first since being hired with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab just six months ago. She wasn't sure why, but Emmie found herself disillusioned lately. She wasn't sure why. Maybe she was still missing Navy life, she thought. Maybe she still missed Dex. After all, he had only been gone for a couple of years now. Maybe she just wasn't adjusting to Miami or widowhood like she had hoped. Even Ryan Wolfe, who seemed to take a liking to her in the beginning, didn't talk to her quite as much anymore.

Emmie set those thoughts aside as she sat down at a brown table by herself. This would be a good time to just let her hair down and have a drink, she thought. Nobody would care, and she was probably just going to head back to the room and turn in early. She ordered a Pina Colada and sipped it gently while keeping her distance from the crowd. Abandoning herself in the moment, she ordered another one. Given her low tolerance to alcohol, she figured that would be enough.

Just as the music was slowing down, she could feel the Pina Coladas seep into her judgment. She felt her senses begin to float. She even smiled and watched the dance floor, swaying and tapping her fingers mindlessly.

A sturdy young man with short brown hair and light blue eyes approached her. By the way he carried himself, she could tell he was another police officer. "Wanna dance?" he yelled above the noise, motioning toward the dance floor.

She giggled. "Sure, why not?"

The young man stuck his hand out to her. She accepted it and followed him. He led her to an open space on the dance floor and immediately swept her up in a firm embrace, leading her in sway to the music.

"So what's your name?" Emmie asked into his ear.

"Kevin. I'm a patroller from Tallahassee. And you?"

"Hi Kevin. I'm Emmie. I'm a computer tech with Miami-Dade."

Kevin looked to be about ten years her junior, she thought, as his strong, young arms pulled her in closer to him. She giggled more and rested her chin on his shoulder, enjoying the moment.

When she looked at him again, Kevin put his hand on her chin and gave her a long, slow kiss. She lost herself in his kiss and wrapped her hands around his shoulders, having pretty much forgotten her professional manners by this point.

Kevin began to kiss her neck and move his face to her ear. "Wanna come up to my room?" he whispered.

Emmie was loopy, but she wasn't THAT loopy. She backed away slightly. "Uh, sorry. I better not." She thought for sure that those words would be the end of Kevin, but he seemed okay with it. At least he continued to hold her in a slow dance, swaying her. She giggled as he teased her ear with his tongue. Hard to tell which one of them might have been drinking more, she thought.

Kevin suddenly stiffened up in surprise. Emmie felt a firm hand grip her shoulder and ease her back.

"Excuse me, Miss Stockburne. Excuse me Officer."

It was Horatio. He looked directly at Kevin, hands on hips, not to be argued with. "Sorry to interrupt. I'm Miss Stockburne's Lieutenant, and I need to talk to her on official business. She'll be back in touch with you, Officer."

Kevin's expression softened up as he backed away respectfully. "Sure, Lieutenant. Nice meeting you Emmie."

The computer tech was feeling uncoordinated now, and she tried her best to hide it. But Horatio wasn't fooled. He gently took her arm and guided her to a quieter area inside the hotel.

"That was the last place I expected to find you. You've been drinking, haven't you?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"Uh, a little" she said, her speech a little slurred.

He took her elbow and guided her again, now letting her sit gently in a striped armchair in the lounge. He sat opposite from her. "I got a call from Frank about a high-profile case back in Miami. It involves a well-known meteorologist. We're all going to have to head back to the crime lab tomorrow. Calleigh's heading back early to work another case."

Emmie still feigned her coordination as she held her head and nodded. "Uh, am I riding with you, Sir?"

"You'll have to. I'll need you to pack up the cybercrimes exhibit. The guy from Cape Canaveral can take over, but he can't be here until noon."

She nodded again. "Anything we can do from here, Sir?"

Horatio sighed now. "I can make some calls, and Tyler can work the lab, but we really need to get back for this one."

"Yes Sir." She stood up slowly, reaching out with unsteady hands. The alcohol certainly had the best of her by now.

"Would you like some help getting back to your room?"

Her eyes wandered. She still tried desperately to look sober. "Might not be a bad idea, Sir. Do you mind?"

He stood up and took her arm now. Gently she stood up, just a little wobbly. "Thanks, Sir. Sorry about that."

"Just looking out for my department" he assured her.

Emmie let him take her by the arm as he guided her back to her room. He held out his palm to her.

"Your key? Will you be okay by yourself the rest of the night?"

She nodded at him deliberately. "Yes, Sir. I'm not going anywhere else.

He slipped the card key into the door lock. As the lock spun and clicked, he opened the door, handing her her key back. "Good. Don't have anything else to drink tonight. I might need you on call."

"Yes Sir. And thanks."

He closed the door behind her. "See you in the morning."


	3. No Good Deed

**Chapter 3—No Good Deed**

Ryan glanced up at the ceiling of the crime lab's garage as the thunder cracked overhead for the umpteenth time. The rain had begun to pound the metal roof again, reminding them that it was still out there, still in control, still threatening to overtake.

"What's the matter, Wolfe? Scared of a little thunder?" Delko asked with that boyish grin.

He smirked. "Nah. Just sounds like it's a little close." He then turned his attention back to the muddy, crumpled Lumina. Carefully he shone his flashlight along the collapsed steering wheel. "Yep. None of the airbags went off. First place I want to check is the fuses. See if something wasn't working."

"Didn't Tripp say this was the wife's car?" Delko wanted to know.

"Yeah. Eric Miller's car was in the shop. Transmission problems, I think."

Ryan then bent down and shone his flashlight. With a gloved hand he reached in and clicked the cover off the black fuse box, ducking back when some muddy rainwater fell to the concrete floor with a SPLAT! He dutifully scanned the fuse box with his flashlight now. "Some of these fuses are different in the fuse box." His eyebrows furrowed as he studied muddy inside lid. "This could be a problem right here. Wrong type of fuse." Carefully he reached in and tried to pull the fuse out. It wouldn't budge. Very carefully he repositioned his fingers and tried to pull again.

"The passenger side airbag was turned off" Delko noted, looking at the switch on the crumpled dashboard.

Ryan now hooked both fingers around the slender fuse and eased it out. It made a grinding sound as it slid toward him, but he held it in one hand and studied it. "Yep. Wrong type of fuse for a Chevy Lumina. I'm gonna take a look and see who handled this fuse box last."

"Take us a while to get this thing cleaned out" Delko said, shaking his head at the mud-soaked papers that now stuck to the floorboards. "Gonna need Cynthia and Emmie to read these."

At that moment Ryan spotted a wet, wilted receipt that stuck to the floorboard. With his tweezers he picked it up and studied it.

Delko furrowed his eyebrows at him. "Find something?"

Without another word the CSI bent down began to lift prints from the black fuse box. He then looked at the receipt again.

"Think I just got an idea who's been working on this fuse box."

* * *

><p>The blonde-haired man fidgeted nervously as he stared out the window. The torrential rain had now tapered to a light mist. His blue eyes then dropped to the table in front of him. He clearly felt out of place in a police interrogation room.<p>

Ryan Wolfe held the brown case file as he sat down across the table from the man. "Mr. Coleman. Thanks for coming in."

"Sure" he said, sounding concerned that he would be here.

"I understand you're one of the meteorologists for WTVM?"

"Yes, Officer."

"Just want to ask you a few questions." Ryan studied the case file thoughtfully. He then looked at the meteorologist.

"I'll do my best" the man promised.

"Have you been anywhere near Eric Miller's car in the last week, Mr. Coleman?"

The man shook his head. "No, Officer."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Ryan laid the crumpled receipt on the table in front of the man. He glanced at it. "That's a receipt from an auto parts store with your name and debit card number from last week. You bought two fuses that match the kind we found in the Chevy Lumina. We also found your fingerprints on the fuse box."

The man raised his eyebrows. "The Lumina? That's his wife's car" he corrected.

Ryan gave him a hard look now. "You don't seem too upset about Mr. Miller's death."

The meteorologist pursed his lips. Pain was a little more evident in his eyes now. "I beg to differ, Mr. uh,…. I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

"Wolfe. Ryan Wolfe."

"Sorry, Mr. Wolfe" he said a little more forcefully. "Since this storm system I've been pulling overtime. And my wife just had a baby, so I'm a little tired. The truth is, we're a family at the station. But we have to be there to track the storm and keep the public informed before the competition does. All three of us have been studying models by day, and I try to be there for my family at night, when I don't get called in. And Eric being gone doesn't make things any better. Our other meteorologist isn't taking it too well."

"So you were in Mrs. Miller's Lumina in the last week, Mr. Coleman?"

Al Coleman leaned toward Ryan now. "Yes, I was. You see, Eric was working harder than all of us. While he was working a double shift, the turn signals went out in Angela's car. I'm not really good with cars, but I knew to check the fuse box, and I could see the fuse blew on the turn signals. I tried to change them, but they ended up being the wrong kind. The guy at the auto parts store swore these were the right kind for a 2000 Chevy Lumina." He curled his fingers, nearly scratching the table. "I was trying to take care of Angela while Eric was working all those hours tracking the storm. I went down there on my own time, tried to fix the fuse on my own time. That's how close we are over there at the station!"

Ryan raised his eyebrows now. "Did you say you tried to fix the turn signals?"

The man shrugged at him. "That's right. The turn signals. And they were the wrong kind of fuses." He smirked. "I mean, I forecast the weather, not fix cars."

"What did you do when you found out they were the wrong kind?"

He raised his eyebrows in thought. "I brought them in and left them on my desk. I was going to exchange them or something, but I guess I dropped the receipt. Wasn't a lot of money anyway, so I just sort of forgot about them." He turned his had sideways now. "You don't think I had anything to do with what happened to Eric, do you?"

"We found evidence that the fuse box in Mrs. Miller's Lumina was tampered with, Mr. Coleman."

His eyes widened now as he shook his head. "No. Me? Mr., uh…."

"Wolfe" Ryan corrected. "The fuses you bought matched the kind we found in the fuse box, and they were being used for the car's airbags. When Mr. Miller's car crashed, Mr. Coleman, his airbags didn't deploy. If his fuse box had the right kind of fuses, he might still be alive right now. That makes you a possible suspect in a murder case."

The idea of being charged with murder hit him like a lightning bolt. "I did not do anything to that fuse box. When I found out I had the wrong kind of fuses, I simply closed it up, took the fuses with me, and went to work. I didn't have time to fix it like I wanted to." He leaned his head on his hand now. "Oh, God. Mr. Wolfe, just tell me how to prove that to you."

Satisfied that the man was telling the truth, he nodded and closed the brown case file. "I'm gonna need to look at that pack of fuses."

He sighed and lowered his eyes. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"They, uh, disappeared off my desk."

"What do you mean they disappeared off your desk?"

"Well, I was going to try to bring them back."

Ryan tipped his head up in suspicion now. "I thought you said you laid them on your desk and just forgot about them. You were going to exchange them, but you lost your receipt."

"Exactly. And now I can't find them."

"But you told me you just forgot about them. And you also said you've been working a lot of overtime, but you still have time to return fuses that don't cost a lot of money. Which is it, Mr. Coleman?"

He closed his eyes tightly. "I don't remember" he said deliberately. "I've been going blind on weather models for the last four days. And I miss my family."

He nodded with a resolve. "That's okay, Mr. Coleman. We're done for now. Just don't go too far."

The man had no words. He simply glanced out the window at the grayness.

* * *

><p>"That's funny" Ryan said as he shone the flashlight into the open fuse box again.<p>

Delko looked over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"Al Coleman swore he tried to fix the turn signals and then said when he couldn't, he just closed it up and forgot about it. That means this car was still supposed to have broken turn signals."

"So what do you see?"

He glanced between the black, muddy fusebox and the car's schematic. "The fuses for the turn signals are brand new."

"You think our weather man was telling the truth about not doing anything else to Mrs. Miller's car?"

Ryan nodded. "Maybe the next person to talk to is Mrs. Miller. The grieving widow."


	4. Secrets Revealed

**Chapter 4—Secrets Revealed**

Natalia sat on the blue sofa next to Angela Miller. Her eyes closed tightly, the woman wept loudly and bitterly, her head turned away.

"Mrs. Miller, we're really sorry about your husband" she said carefully and quietly.

The pretty blonde-haired woman now dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, still looking down. "Thank you."

"I just have to ask you a few questions, and I'll be out of your way."

The woman nodded.

"Do you know Al Coleman?"

Angela Miller gathered herself, her eyes still closed. "Yes I do. He's one of the forecasters at the station. Why?"

"Well, we understand he tried to fix the fuses on your Lumina just a few days ago?"

She breathed deeply and dabbed her eyes again. "That's right. Eric was working all kinds of overtime when this storm started coming, so Al came by and took a look at the turn signals on my car. He thought the fuses blew. Then he told me he couldn't change them because they were the wrong kind. I told him not to worry about it. Al is a real sweetheart. Everybody's such a sweetheart over there."

"Mrs. Miller, we checked the car's service records, and the Lumina had been serviced just two days before Mr. Coleman tried to fix your fuses."

She averted her eyes in grief. "I know. The turn signals went out the day after I brought it back from the shop."

"What did you have the car serviced for?"

She never changed her expression. "Just a normal servicing. Lube and oil change and a tire rotation, I think." She now glanced numbly at Natalia. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"We're just trying to find out what happened" she assured her. "So when Mr. Coleman couldn't fix your turn signals, what did you do next?"

Angela drew a deep breath. The shock and grief had numbed her memory. "I took it back to the garage to have the turn signals fixed. Eric was so busy all the time, and neither one of us really knows what to do with these fancy high-tech cars. I mean, we could fix cars years ago, but now with all these electronics, nobody knows what the hell to do."

"Mrs. Miller, do you have any of the receipts from the garage where your car got serviced?" Natalia wanted to know.

She nodded as she stood up. "I'll give you whatever you need." She then came back with a red folder and laid it on the coffee table. "That's some stuff Eric was taking care of. He just puts receipts in that folder and then he takes care of them."

Natalia picked up the folder now. "Thanks, Mrs. Miller. I'd just like to take these back to the lab, if you don't mind." She dipped her head to look into the woman's eyes. "Is there anything else we can do for you in the meantime?"

The woman just stared off into the distance now. "When you find out what happened, please let me know."

"I promise."

* * *

><p>Natalia stood and thumbed through crumpled, crushed receipts and bills at the layout table. She suddenly tipped his head up at a folded piece of paper.<p>

Ryan strolled into the DNA lab while Natalia was sorting through the receipts, pink pages, and cards. "So how's it going with the grieving widow?" he wanted to know.

With a gloved hand she picked up a billing statement. "Angela Miller said her husband would stick all the bills and receipts in a folder and then take care of them. This might be why he's been so secretive."

Ryan looked at the green page and sniffed. "Looks like our weatherman had something to hide."

* * *

><p>The cybercrimes exhibit lay packed up in its black cases and white portfolios in a corner of the hotel room. Emmie now sat alone in the silence and stared out at the gray skyline. The rain just seemed to match her mood, she thought.<p>

Knowing she probably wouldn't get anything done on the long drive back, Emmie laid these thoughts aside. She poured herself another cup of coffee, her fifth that morning, and perched it on the bunched-up bedspread beside her leg. She then positioned her laptop precariously on her crossed leg. Clicking her keyboard, she brought up her email program. Just to blow off a little steam. Mary, one of her old Quantico friends, was always a good listener.

_Hey Chickie! _

_Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, but I've had lots going on. _

_As I write this, I'm in Clearwater, Florida at the Law Enforcement Convention. The usual stuff, though I do enjoy these. No FBI hotties in black suits and sunglasses this time. Lots of cute young cops around, though! But we know they're no match for sailors, right? _

_I'm seriously thinking about looking for another job. I'm just not sure I fit in here in Miami or with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. The people are nice here, but I really haven't made any real friendships. I'd really miss Lieutenant Caine. He's the best field commander anybody could possibly hope for. And he is just as sweet as can be. You'd love him. But somehow I'm just not getting used to things here. Mary, I'm so sick and tired of being lonely all the time. Besides, they already have a handwriting and check fraud analyst, so I don't do much of that. Mostly AFIS, CODIS, sound analysis, and "Emmie can clean that up!" Ten years of my life dedicated to this, and I feel like a maid sometimes. _

_And don't get me started on Mr. Stud Muffin in Internal Affairs. He's still slobbering, still holding out hope that I might want to marry him so he can get in with my family and play with my trust fund. He'll probably want me to give him something for his headache every night—HA! But I guess I just learned to ignore him. I'm sure at one time he was a great cop, but I think he's a good example of what happens when politics gets the better of you. Ryan used to talk to me, but I guess I just wasn't easy enough for him and he's gone on to greener pastures. I should just forget him and look for someone else. _

_Sorry, I just had to get this off my chest. Maybe we just don't get the really big cases here, although if we do, I don't know who gets them. _

_It's been almost two years now, and I still miss Dex. What I wouldn't give to find out what REALLY happened to him. I think that's the part that hurts the worst. _

_Give the kitties a kiss for me, and tell Jimmy I said hi. –Love, Emmie. _

She clicked on the dropdown menu to send the email just as her coffee tipped over. As she lurched sideways to grab it, the laptop flipped off her knee and fell to the floor with a CRACK!

"Dammit!" She ignored the spreading coffee stain now and picked up the laptop, only to see MESSAGE SENT on the screen. Her heart sank, not knowing just where that message might have gone.

Emmie now clicked the keys, feverishly trying to track her email, to no avail. The hotel's wireless service didn't give her that option. It made her feel helpless. Well, maybe it just went off into outer space, she figured, as she blotted up the mess with a towel.

She stiffened up again when she heard a tap on her door. "Be right there!" she yelled, tossing the brown towel on the floor.

Horatio stood in the doorway with a Styrofoam cup. Without a word he handed it to her.

"Morning Sir. Thanks for the coffee. Please come in."

Her boss strode in. "Morning Miss Stockburne. How's your head?"

She looked at him with an embarrassed smile. "I'm fine. Slept well until Calleigh had to get up at four in the morning. Thanks for coming to my rescue last night."

Horatio smiled. "That officer looked to be too young for you, and we don't want rumors spreading around the crime lab, right?"

"No, Sir."

The Lieutenant glanced out the window now. "I've gotten reports of flash flood watches between here and Miami, so we better hit the road. You ready to check out?"

She motioned to the computer equipment. "All set, Sir. Just have to get a luggage cart, and I can check out and load this stuff up in the Hummer."

He surveyed the equipment. "I'll help you carry these downstairs if you're packed. But we better get going as soon as possible. Local weather says there's another wave of rain coming through. Some of the major roadways are already flooding."

As Horatio pulled up the handle of her two rollaways, Emmie quickly tucked a white portfolio under her arm. "Okay, Sir. I'll help you pack this stuff up."

He kept walking toward the door. "Oh, and when we get on the road, you drive."

"Me, Sir?"

"I'll be on the phone with Delko and Wolfe about the Miller case. And maybe you and I can talk."

Emmie raised her eyebrows as he held the door open for her. "Yes, Sir."


	5. It Was All Over Quickly

**A/N: Sorry this update took so long. Busy starting a business (I had no idea webpages could be so complicated!), and my internet service was hit-or-miss for the last week.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5—It Was All Over Quickly<strong>

Eric Delko leaned forward as he stood in the viewing area of the morgue. "Hey, Alexx. Got your text. What's going on?" he asked into the mike.

Alexx Woods looked down and caressed Eric Miller's black hair. "Well, I was right when I said our weather man died from the impact of the crash. But I had a nagging suspicion and ordered a tox panel."

"Okay."

She raised her eyebrows. "It's a good thing I did. Apparently Mr. Miller had severe allergies and took Allegra. Tox showed fexophenadine hydrochloride in his system. In other words, his prescription Allegra."

Delko shrugged. "So what's the problem?"

Eric Miller also had a high dose of Benadryl in his system. Tox found some antibodies in his blood that showed he was highly allergic to Benadryl. Not only that, but Benadryl interacts with Allegra. The kind I found in Mr. Miller's system was the liquid kind. Hospital grade. Not what you'd get in a pharmacy."

"So he was probably having an allergic reaction when he crashed."

The M.E. pointed to the Y-shaped incision on his pale chest. "He had enough to cause tachycardia and maybe even sleepiness. His judgment was definitely impaired though."

Delko nodded and raised his eyebrows. "Guess we better check his medical records."

Alexx gave him a knowing look now. "And see whether somebody who handled his meds might have had a grudge against him."

* * *

><p>Emmie stared out from the front door of the hotel. The sky darkened as the rain had begun to pound again. She watched it dance off the tops of the cars while the lightning darted across the sky again. "Be nice if this rain ever quits" she muttered to herself.<p>

"Miss Stockburne!" Horatio called from behind her. Emmie spun around.

He handed her the keys she recognized as belonging to the brown Hummer. "You're driving" he announced "I'll be calling the lab on the ride back. I'll also work the police radio."

Emmie's green eyes darted between him and the rain-soaked Hummer now. "Are you sure? Sir, you NEVER let anybody else drive this thing!"

"We're gonna be on the road for five hours. I have to get on the phone with the lab and with WTVM about the Miller case. Are you up to it?"

"Oh, absolutely! I've driven these things before."

As the Hummer rumbled to life, she looked around and smiled proudly. Just like her Marine Corps days when she got to drive the Colonel, she thought.

Emmie steered the beast out of the parking lot and followed the directions to the main roads. The rain would not seem to let up, but she knew to follow the directions to Highway 73 out of the Tampa Bay area. The Interstate traffic would be backed up this time of day. The Hummer didn't have a GPs, so she would have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Clearwater was now also plagued by flooding. As she drove down the main city street, she let her foot off the accelerator gently, following other cars that crept through the brown rivers.

"Watch your speed!" Horatio warned, glancing down at his cell phone and spreading some papers in his lap. "Oh, and when we get on the main road, we can talk about your email."

Emmie stiffened up and glanced at him. "My email, Sir?"

Horatio never looked up at her. "The one where you address me as 'Chickie'!"

She gasped. A wave of fear and embarrassment washed over her. She covered her face with one hand. "Oh my God. Sir, that wasn't supposed to—"

"Just drive."

"Yes Sir." She sighed. No more wondering where that email went.

She squinted through the diagonal rain while Horatio chatted on his cell phone and thumbed through papers in his lap, his face turned away from her. He went from thumbing numbers to talking to thumbing numbers to flipping papers again, completely trusting her to take them home.

"Benadryl in his system? Take another look at that scene, Eric. But Alexx is sure it wasn't the Benadryl? You'll probably have to resort to the photos at this point. It's raining up here, too."

In her efforts to get to Highway 73, Emmie steered the Hummer onto Florida's more isolated two-lane roads. She couldn't see any other cars. Horatio would glance up at her occasionally and then out at the grayness as she leaned forward, her chest against the steering wheel, trying to navigate the ruddy two-lane road in the desolate swamp land. With her right hand she groped for the defogger and the wipers. Horatio reached over and flipped on the defogger while still chatting. Emmie tried to speed up the windshield wipers in an attempt to fend off the sheets of rain. Despite their best efforts, the windshield fogged up. Emmie cleared it with a towel, again and again. Between the defogger and the loudness outside, she could barely hear even Horatio talking.

"Yes, Lieutenant Horatio Caine with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. I need to see about releasing Eric Miller's medical records. There's a question about some medications he took in the last couple of days. Uh huh. Yes, please fax those over to my lab. I'm on my way back to Miami. I'll take a look at those when I get back. I hope to pull in by about two o'clock."

Emmie squinted at an orange road closure sign off in the distance ahead. As they crept up, it was easy to see why. The road itself was covered over by another brown river.

Following the detour sign, she turned left and then picked up her speed on the long, straight, narrow, aging road.

"Careful" Horatio warned, squinting out at the grayness that seemed to have swallowed them up now. "Alligators get out on the road when it's like this."

"Great. They won't try to eat this thing, will they?"

"No, but you don't want to run over one."

Emmie slowly picked up her speed as the rain started to taper off. With the long straightaway, she was sure she could see something in time to stop or turn.

There were no other words between them. She just drove now, ignoring the pounding on the Hummer's roof and the wipers and the defogger that whined in protest. She would like to have turned on some music, but Horatio forbade it, just in case the police radio came to life. It would have cheered her up and made the drive easier, she thought. A massive, gray tire truck came up into her line of sight. She carefully changed lanes, mindful of the brown waters that were rising on either side of the pavement. Horatio momentarily glanced up. Satisfied that she knew what she was doing, he went back to his paperwork.

Emmie said nothing. She was unaware that passing the tire truck had caused her to miss the detour turnoff that would have taken them back toward Miami.

More than an hour had passed now. It seemed as though the road was getting more isolated, and the rain began to pound them again. Her eyes were getting tired now, and she was worried. She gripped the wheel more tightly. Horatio simply kept working throughout the whole ordeal.

"We've been on this road a long time, Emmie" he finally said, looking out at the grayness again. "Maybe you better turn around."

The computer tech nodded. "You're right. I don't like this at all. I can't see too well, so I'll just turn at the next intersection. There are a lot of curves in here, so I don't want to take any chances." She kept her eyes up for anything that might look like a break in the tall grass.

Suddenly the road curved hard to the right. Three-foot-tall weeds and the pounding, gray rain left no line of sight. Emmie gripped the wheel and pulled the Hummer through the curve, letting her foot up off the accelerator.

The Hummer was in the crest of the curve when, Emmie instantly came upon three huge brown dead alligators in the lane right in front of her. They were much too large for her to run over without causing an accident. Panic set in. She had no time to react. She opened her eyes wide and gasped as instinct took over. She slammed on the brake as hard as she could and yanked the wheel all the way to the left, trying to swerve enough to miss the huge roadkill and stay on the road at the same time. As the brakes screamed, a stunned Horatio grabbed the inside door handle and leaned hard. Were it not for his seat belt, he might have fallen on top of her.

The force proved to be too much for even a Hummer to bear. Within seconds she could feel them floating now. The now airborne car struck something, causing her bones to shake and the airbags to deploy with a deafening BANG! Emmie now had her face up against the massive white pillow. She could see nothing else.

Seconds later her whole world not only turned upside down but jarred her body repeatedly, shaking her like a rag doll. Her arms and legs flailed uncontrollably. She felt something hit her in the head as it flew forward. All sense and control were gone, and she was beaten by flying objects for seconds that seemed like an eternity.

She could hear nothing but her own screaming.

It was all over quickly.


	6. Hell Hath No Fury

**Chapter 6—Hell Hath No Fury**

"Well, Melissa, this rain just doesn't seem to want to go away now, does it?"

Melissa Matherson resisted the urge to caress her belly as she shook her head sadly. As always, she positioned herself in front of the massive blue screen while she faced the cameras and spotlights, just as she was supposed to.

"No, Tonya and John, and it looks like we'll be this way for at least another day or two. Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." She made a circular motion with her finger while looking at the weather map. "Well, as you can see here, this system just continues to pull moisture over the whole southern tip of the state. We have reports of flooding as far north as Tampa Bay right now. Well, what's causing this to happen, you ask? Well, we have a low-pressure system just east of Miami that's pulling moisture from the Gulf of Mexico, and it just doesn't seem to want to go anywhere right now." She swung her arm in a semicircular motion now. "Not just that, but it's pulling all this cool air in from the north, so that's why the rain's been so cold. You don't need me to tell you that it's been an unseasonably cool sixty-seven degrees today, just slightly cooler than the last few days. Six inches of rain now in the last four days."

As Melissa Matherson walked past the darkened studio lights, Calleigh nodded to her.

"Melissa Matherson?"

The short, brown-haired woman now patted her belly through her black maternity dress as she looked up. "Can I help you?" she asked without much expression.

Calleigh showed her badge. "Calleigh DuQuesne, Miami-Dade Crime Lab. We need to ask you a few questions."

Melissa Matherson now sat at the table in the interrogation room, never looking at Calleigh.

"So how long have you known Eric Miller, Miss Matherson?"

"Not long" she said vaguely. "I'm still new to Miami."

Calleigh now laid a piece of paper down and directed the woman's attention to it. "How about seven years?"

She merely looked at the CSI now.

"The two of you worked together in Houston. Sounds like you were quite a hot item. And a check of Eric Miller's credit card records and cell phone records show that the two of you never stopped being a hot item."

The woman now trembled as she caressed her belly again. A tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't know what you're talking about! He was my friend!" She now leaned her hand on her face and sobbed more openly. "I miss him!"

"We checked with your last station, KRIW in Houston. They said you were about to be fired. Apparently you weren't such a good meteorologist. When Eric Miller was your boss, you were getting good evaluations. But when he left, all of a sudden your reviews tanked" Calleigh said matter-of-factly.

"He was a good boss" Melissa insisted.

"Apparently he was more than just your boss."

Melissa now closed her eyes painfully.

"We found some bills from Everglade Obstetrics and Birthing Center in Eric Miller's possession. You were listed as the patient. Was there a reason he was paying your doctor bills?"

"He was helping me. I'm single and five months pregnant now."

"Was Eric Miller the baby's father?"

The young meteorologist sighed and looked skyward, tears still coming out of her eyes. Calleigh never changed her expression.

"I can get a court-ordered paternity test. Why don't you tell me what I'll find out anyway and make it easy for the both of us?"

"Yeah. He's the father." She looked down and sobbed again. "He _was_ the father."

Calleigh now placed another piece of paper in front of the tearful woman, who caressed her belly again. She merely glanced at it.

"We checked Mr. Miller's bank records. He was transferring a lot of money to your bank account right about the time you confirmed you were pregnant. But then the payments suddenly stopped last month. Why is that?"

Melissa now dipped her head. "Eric was going to leave his wife. Or so he told me. Yeah, he was paying me."

"And he didn't leave her, did he? Miss Matherson, we're now checking Angela Miller's car because we think Eric Miller died under mysterious circumstances." Calleigh leaned toward the woman now. "It sounds to me like you have a motive for wanting Mrs. Miller dead."

The woman shook her head at Calleigh with real fear in her brown eyes. "No! I swear to you!" she wailed.

"Were you blackmailing him?"

Melissa now closed her eyes. "I threatened to tell his wife. But I didn't blackmail him. He gave me the money. I mean, Eric Miller was the senior meteorologist at WTVM. Perfect life, perfect career here in Miami. How do you think it would look if he got one of his team members pregnant, for God's sake?"

Calleigh still looked at the distraught woman matter-of-factly. "Looks to me like you might be a possible murder suspect."

Grief and hormones took over, and the woman leaned her head on her hand again. Her brown hair fell around her face like a curtain as she wept more openly into a Kleenex now. "No! I didn't kill him! You have to believe me!"

Calleigh never flinched. "I'll believe the evidence. "Don't go too far."

* * *

><p>The muddy, crumpled Chevy Lumina now rested six feet off the ground on a hydraulic lift. With gloved hands Ryan scanned a muddy, flattened wheel while Delko shone his flashlight on the muddy, crumpled undercarriage. Both of them looked up as Calleigh stepped into the garage.<p>

"Hey" Delko said with a smile.

Calleigh nodded back. "Hey."

"So what did you find out from our weather girl?"

Calleigh dipped her head thoughtfully. "Looks like Eric Miller was more than just her boss."

Delko smirked. "No surprise. I've seen her do the weather. She's not that good."

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna have Emmie run some searches when she and Horatio get back." Calleigh took out her cell phone.

Ryan perked up on hearing Emmie's name. "They left the hotel early this morning, didn't they?"

Delko looked at him with that boyish grin. "What's the matter, Wolfe? You miss your girlfriend?"

Ryan huffed as he dusted off his blue coveralls. "Emmie's not my girlfriend, okay?"

Calleigh furrowed her eyebrows. "You're right. Come to think of it, they should've been back by now. Horatio said they pulled out of the parking lot in Clearwater around eight o'clock."

Ryan nodded. "They should've been back a few hours ago."

She pulled out her cell phone and thumbed the speed dial. "Horatio? It's Calleigh. Need you to give me a call back on the Miller case." She then thumbed the buttons on her cell phone again, pacing as she waited. She then shook her head and clicked it off. "Emmie's not picking up either."

Ryan pursed his lips. "That's pretty strange."

The CSI's looked at each other.

"I'll try again in a little while" Calleigh assured them. "Maybe Tyler can get things started. See you later."

Delko now turned his attention back to the crumpled, mangled engine block. He shone his flashlight up, dodging a dirt clod that fell down onto the cement and scattered.

Ryan glanced at the dirt clod. "Hey, man. Doesn't that dirt look kind of funny to you?"

Delko glanced at Ryan and then at the dirt that had fallen onto the cement. He nodded. "Yeah." Quickly he picked up an evidence bag. "This looks kind of red." He touched it with his gloved finger and then gently sniffed it. He raised his eyebrows. "Brake fluid."

Ryan immediately clicked on his flashlight and scanned the muddy, crumpled undercarriage. "Hey. Right there!" he said urgently.

"Where?"

"Right here." Ryan pointed with his flashlight. "Here's the brake line. Looks like the dirt fell off there. There's something shiny poking out of there. See it?"

Delko squinted as he scanned the undercarriage again. "Yeah, I see it. Wait." Carefully he reached up and tweezed out the shiny object. More mud flecked to the cement. Delko paid no attention now as the dirt showered him.

Evidence in hand, Delko nodded his head. "Straight pin."

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Yep, somebody worked on this car all right."


	7. Picking Up the Pieces

**Chapter 7—Picking up the Pieces**

Emmie had not yet opened her eyes when she became aware of the sounds of water dripping. Somehow she felt as though she were floating along as though in a strange dream, sitting down, hearing strange sounds, and just floating all the while. There were no other sounds.

_Am I dead and going to Heaven?_

For a split second she thought she could see Dexter's face.

But then the pain set in. Real pain that shot through her body, up from her left leg and down from her head. She whimpered and convulsed.

_Ahh God! My leg! _

Finally she opened her eyes and looked around weakly. Like waking up from anesthesia, her senses returned slowly, little by little. It took her several minutes to remember where she was and why she was there. Her head spun and she moaned in pain and exhaustion as she attempted to make sense of her wet, cold, gray surroundings. Her head was throbbing now. She tried to move around, but it felt like her left leg was caught.

_What the_—

By that time Emmie's vision and understanding had cleared up enough to remember what had happened. The inside of the Hummer smelled strange. In front of her hung the two deflated airbags that rested over the steering wheel and the dash like wrinkled bedsheets. Broken glass that had once been the driver's side window now rested on her arms and her lap. Water dripped into the crumpled door. The windshield had crumpled but still protected her from the rain.

The computer tech tried to move, but then another pain shot through her leg. She cried out and squirmed again.

There were no other sounds except for her moaning, shuffling, and the rain that never seemed to stop. It rained more lightly now, but the _drip, drip, drip_ on the driver's side door was a reminder that there was just no escaping this gray wetness.

Weakly Emmie turned her head to the right. Next to her was a black figure that slumped back in the seat, his sleeping face looking at her. His red hair was even redder with blood that had run onto his face.

"Oh, God. Sir? Horatio?" She said weakly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He didn't respond.

"No. Please be alive. Please?" she whispered, terrified.

Emmie was still stunned. She merely looked at him just sitting there. Except for the blood on his face, he looked like he was sleeping peacefully. His left sleeve was torn at the shoulder.

She reached up painfully again and felt his neck with her fingers. _Please, God, please_.

Horatio had a faint pulse. She breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned over him and pulled one, and then the other of his eyelids open. Good, no dilation. That meant no brain injuries.

Emmie now tried to reach over to check him more thoroughly, but she immediately buckled in pain again. She shrieked this time and writhed, holding her arms, just wanting that pain to go away. Stretching out, she kneaded Horatio's arms and legs as thoroughly as her injury would allow. Thank God; no fractures that she could feel. He was just knocked out. Knocked out, but alive. Except for the blood on his head and face, he just looked to be sleeping peacefully.

Emmie sighed with relief. Horatio was alive. For now, at least.

The injured computer tech slipped off her seat belt and looked painfully at her leg for a few minutes. The skin was swollen and purple just below her knee and around her shin. She flexed her fingers and moved her neck. Everything else seemed to be all right.

The computer tech turned in the seat and surveyed the damage more thoroughly now. At least the Hummer was upright, she thought. Papers and other debris lay scattered on the floorboards in front of her, mingled with the broken glass that lay in her lap. The rear hatch had flown open, and computer cables and clothes lay scattered in a wet, muddy trail as far back as she could see. The cargo strap she used to secure the computer equipment had broken loose and was now hanging from the ceiling. She could see the crime lab's laptops and cables scattered behind the Hummer, but she was too weak to be upset about it just now. Her purse still lay by her feet at the floorboards. Carefully she reached down, determined to get past the pain and the weakness, and picked it up, shaking the glass off.

Emmie opened her cell phone and pressed the speed dial. "Dammit. Out of range" she said to herself. She clicked it off to save the battery.

She tried the driver's side door. Nothing happened. Weakly she pushed on it with both arms, grunting in pain. Finally the door creaked and groaned and then eased open. Carefully she turned, picking up her bruised, swollen left leg. On the chance that it might not be broken, she gently set her sneaker in the mud and tried to stand up. The most horrible pain she had ever felt in her life shot through her like a lightning bolt. She wailed in pain again and settled back into the wet, glass-littered driver's seat. For several minutes she shivered in the pain and the cold wetness.

Emmie peered into the rear view mirror. The Hummer had come to rest well off the road. All she could see was the swamp shrubbery, some of which had been flattened in a trail behind them.

_This is a Hummer, for God's sake._

She turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life briefly and then sputtered out. She tried again. This time the engine strained. She let go of the key. Convinced that the Hummer wasn't going anywhere, she shook her head and leaned back. Horatio's cell phone was nowhere in sight, and she was not quite comfortable searching him for it just yet. All those switches and dials on the dashboard made no sense to her. Not being a police officer, she had no idea what to do with them.

_Gotta do something about my leg._

Carefully Emmie squirmed between the bucket seats and eased herself, painfully dragging her bruised, swollen leg behind her, pushing herself along the cold, dirty, glass-littered interior with her hands, her rearend, and her right foot. Gently, painfully, she writhed up to the cargo strap that hung from the ceiling.

Two computer cables and two boards. Those would do.

Emmie positioned her swollen leg and snaked the computer cables and the two boards, winding them around her tender, purplish skin, tying the cables off into a makeshift splint.

The rain was coming down heavily again. The pain and shock of the crash had worn her out. Reality was setting in that she and Horatio were in the middle of nowhere. No food or drinkable water. No communication. No help of any kind. No way to find out just how bad Horatio's injuries really were. No way to call an ambulance. No way to even tell where the road was.

She leaned over and looked up at the gray sky. She wasn't even sure which way was east or west.

Emmie leaned back against the wall of the Hummer now. She wasn't scared or angry. Just numb. Just looking out at that rain and the trail of debris behind them. Now wondering what to do about Horatio. Wondering whether anyone might find them. For what seemed an eternity, she simply sat still and watched the rain dance on the mud.

Now the thoughts raced through her mind. Horatio could die, and she would be powerless to do anything about it. She had wrecked Miami-Dade County police property. She had gone awfully fast down those back roads through that heavy rain, and it didn't take much for a certain IAB agent to start yet another investigation.

It would be pitch dark soon, and she knew that out here, dark meant DARK, as in complete, enveloping darkness that could be felt. She leaned her head back against the scratched metal and started to cry. "God, what am I gonna do?"

_No. Take some deep breaths._

Emmie resolved that she didn't come all this way to be a helpless little girl. She was a Marine, a leader, a tough lady.

_Start looking around_.

In the lake of broken glass and scattered garbage, a small black canvas bag caught her attention. She squirmed over to it.

"Wow. How lucky can you get?" she said aloud. She looked up at the ceiling. "Thank you."

The Hummer carried its own 72-hour survival kit. After brushing the broken glass out of the way, she zipped open the bag and emptied the contents out onto the floor.

Flashlight and cyalume sticks. Two wool fire blankets. A granola bar. Water packs. Aspirin and bandages, all packed in a black plastic tray the size of a cake pan.

"Thank you."

"With that she strained upward and placed the tray on top of the hatch.

Unrolling one fire blanket, she squirmed forward and carefully tucked it around Horatio. She then unrolled the other one and wrapped it around her shoulders. For some reason it just seemed colder than usual, and she was starting to shiver. She popped two aspirin pills into her mouth and downed them with some water. That might help the pain in her leg.

All this time the rain just kept coming down. She would have shivered except for the fire blanket. Horatio still never moved. It didn't escape her attention that the rain kept coming down faster and faster. The mud seemed to get thicker and thicker. Computer cables and clothes that hung in the shrubbery now swayed in the cold, rainy wind. A black case that she recognized as her laptop was now halfway immersed in muddy swamp water. In fact, all around her there was mud that seemed to be rising. Where would she go? She couldn't even walk.

Emmie turned to Horatio again. It didn't seem right that he should have blood on his face. Gently and tenderly she poured some water into her hand and wiped the blood off his sleeping face. She then just looked at him for what seemed a long time.

"I have no idea how we're gonna get out of here" she said to him. "I wish I knew where 'here' is."


	8. Useless Technology

**Chapter 8—Useless Technology**

Ryan stood at the layout table in the lab next to Delko as his brown eyes scanned the greasy, muddy brake parts.

"Pins in the brake line, huh? I haven't heard of that one in a long time" Ryan noted. "Okay, Automotive Expert. Tell me what happened."

Delko motioned up and down the coils of the Chevy Lumina's brake lines with his gloved finger. "That's actually one of the easiest ways to take out somebody's brakes." He pointed to the top of the coil. "Just unscrew the line at the top of the master cylinder and drop a couple of straight pins in there. See how the brake lines are coiled instead of straight?"

Ryan shrugged. "Yeah. Why is that?"

Delko now motioned up and down with his arms. "Think about it, man. The car flexes when you drive. Not just when you stop and go, but when you run over potholes, speed up, slow down, just about anything. The car's frame flexes, and the brake lines have to flex with it or they'll snap."

Ryan's eyes darted between the CSI and the table. "And as tough as those brake lines are…."

Delko nodded. "Just drop a couple of straight pins in there. As the brake lines flex and the pressure is applied by the brake fluid, the pins eventually push through the lining and cause a slow leak. There's hundreds of pounds of pressure multiplied from the brake pedal to the disks on the front wheel. The pressure of the brake fluid pushes."

"Yeah. Something as little as a straight pin could do that kind of damage."

"Somebody dropped some pins in here. And they came out here and here." Delko pointed to small punctures in the braided brake line.

Ryan nodded thoughtfully. "Slow leak." With a gloved hand he picked up the two straight pins. "They got pushed sideways and punctured the brake line. Before Eric Miller knew there was a problem."

Delko produced a piece of paper from the brown case file. "Followed the road where Eric Miller was driving before he had his accident. Rain washed away a lot of the evidence, but there was a stretch of the pavement that had a high concentration of mineral oil and silicone." He now picked up one of the mud-splashed, greasy coils. "Check this out."

Ryan's eyes widened as he noticed a split in the coil. "Ruptured."

"Matched the mineral contents of the brake fluid in these lines. Found this." Delko produced a dull, bent straight pin. "Probably scratched the inside of the brake line. Eric Miller probably stepped on the brakes to slow down for that curve, and the lines just gave way."

"Before anybody knew there was a problem" Ryan agreed. "Eric Miller never had a chance, did he? How long you think those pins were in there?"

"That's what I'm getting ready to find out. Got prints on the brake parts, but nothing's coming back yet. The car was serviced five days ago." Delko thumbed through the case file and glanced at the creased receipt. "Casey Automotive and Tires."

Ryan pulled out his cell phone and thumbed his speed dial.

"Who are you calling?"

The younger CSI pursed his lips in frustration and then snapped his cell phone shut. "Wonder where H and Emmie are."

Delko raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. You're right. Should've been back hours ago."

Ryan thumbed his speed dial again. "I'll try Emmie's number." For several seconds he held the phone up to his ear and then shook his head as he snapped it shut. "Nothing."

Delko's eyes wandered. "I don't like this. You don't think it's because of the flooding, do you?"

Ryan shook his head. "Somebody would've called or something. It's not like them to just disappear like that. I mean they were on the road this morning when I was talking to H."

Frank Tripp stepped into the lab, hands on hips, his head down in deep thought. "Hey. None of you guys heard from Horatio or Emmie, have you?" he wanted to know.

Delko shook his head. "Nah, man. We just tried them. Nothing."

"They should've been back here about two. Nobody's talked to them since they were on the road this morning. Then nothing." He pointed back. "I put out a BOLO from here to Clearwater. Nobody's heard anything."

Delko looked at the darkening rain. "Getting late. Didn't they take I-75 to Fort Lauderdale? That's the way Calleigh came back."

"Nah. They closed parts of 75. Flooded out up by Fort Myers. DOT said traffic on 75's been detoured. Patrols are checking that area."

Ryan's thoughts wandered to Emmie again. He wanted to keep some hope alive that she might be having a nice dinner and resting comfortably in a safe, dry hotel room. "You don't think they stopped somewhere for the night, do you?"

Delko and Tripp gave him a hard look. "Come on, Wolfe. Somebody would've said something" Frank insisted. "Worse than that. They can't put their spotters in the air right now. Just got word that the whole area's under a tornado watch tonight. They got high winds along with this rain, so everything's grounded."

Delko sensed Ryan's anxiety. "Wolfe, why don't you talk to Tyler and see if he can't track that Hummer? See if maybe he can pick up one of their cell phones."

* * *

><p>Tyler clicked the keys furiously while Ryan stood anxiously behind him. The main monitor came to life with a map of south Florida. He clicked the keyboard again and watched. "Nope. Nothing."<p>

Ryan could see Emmie's green eyes right now. "The Hummer's got GPS tracking."

Tyler turned around and shook his head ruefully. "Tried that already. Hummer's not tracking."

The CSI raised his voice. Desperation was setting in. "Can't you find out where the GPS was last spotted or something?"

Tyler shook his head again. "That kind tracks in Real Time. If it's not transmitting, I can't pick it up." He feverishly clicked keys and pointed the mouse again.

"And no cell phone calls?"

Tyler clicked the mouse. A list of phone numbers came to life on the main monitor alongside the GPS screen. "Last call was made by Horatio at 10:15 this morning. That was at a cell tower near Naples. Nothing out there right now."

Ryan clenched his teeth and spun away from the computer equipment to avoid punching something. "Dammit!" He closed his eyes and shook his head now. Thunder cracked outside of the building again.

Frank Tripp poked his head in the lab. "Wolfe? Tyler? Meeting in the break room right now."

* * *

><p>Ryan, Natalia, Calleigh, Delko, Alexx and Tyler sat in the chairs. Nobody said a word. Frank paced with his head down and his hands on his hips, occasionally glancing at them.<p>

"Everybody here? Good. Okay, here's the word. Nobody's heard anything from Horatio or Emmie since 10:15 this morning. After that they just sort of disappeared." He put his hand to his chin as he paced. "I checked with everybody from here to Clearwater. Nobody can pick them up on police frequency or scanner. They're unofficially missing. Search and rescue is limited because the birds are grounded. We're under a tornado watch until six o'clock tomorrow morning. They got high winds on top of all this rain, and a lot of the roads are flooded out."

Everyone dipped their heads. Some of the CSI's looked at each other.

Frank took a deep breath now. "Stetler's the next highest ranking officer, so he's on his way in right now. I'm asking for four volunteers to stay the night or until we hear something back. I'm gonna step out of the room and order some pizza. You guys decide amongst yourselves who's gonna stay and who's gonna come in early tomorrow morning. You probably want to make that decision before Stetler does. I'll give you a few minutes." With that he quietly walked out of the room.

There were no words. Everybody just dipped their heads in worried silence.

Frank Tripp stepped back into the break room and pointed behind him. "Okay guys. Got pizza and drinks coming. Also put a pot of coffee on. Any volunteers?"

Silence. Frank looked around expectantly. "Come on. Don't make me or Stetler choose."

"We're all gonna stay, Frank" Calleigh said quietly. "We're a team."

Frank just looked at them. "And a damn good one too. Do what you have to do to get ready for the night. Sleep in shifts if you have to. Grab your radios. Check your frequencies. Tyler, you can leave if you want. Stetler's only requiring the police officers to be on shifts."

Tyler shook his head. "I'll stay, too. You might need me for something."

Frank nodded. "Thanks. Alexx, we might need you in case there's a medical emergency."

"I'll be here, Sweetie" she assured him.

A tired, annoyed, rain-soaked Rick Stetler ambled into the break room, his eyes suspiciously scanning. "So what's going on?" he wanted to know.

Frank tilted his head toward the wet IAB agent. "It's okay. Got everything handled."

Rick nodded. "Good. I'll be up in my office. Keep me posted." With that he sighed tiredly and walked out.

Frank glanced after the IAB agent. "I don't know about you guys, but we could sure use Emmie's coffee right now. Okay, decide who's gonna take what shift." He turned for the door himself. "Anybody hears anything, call me! I don't care what's going on. Call me!"


	9. Emmie Makes a Promise

**A/N: A special thanks and a shoutout to JACKCRACKER for letting me know what a nonfatal head injury would look like. It may not be exact, but I think it's more believable than it was last go-round. . **

**Thanks for waiting for the update. I've rejoined Toastmasters and have been writing speeches for the last two weeks. Tonight I'd like to take a break. Besides, I've missed this.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Eric Clapton either. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9—Emmie Makes a Promise<strong>

Wrapped in the gray fire blanket, Emmie now propped her back up against the dewy, battered wall of the Hummer's interior. She folded her arms and closed her eyes. Her splinted leg was still hurting as much as ever, but she was too tired and discouraged to think about pain righ now. Her hopes of being found were beginning to fade with the daylight. The gray sky was almost completely dark, and the relentless sheets of rain that had been plaguing Florida for days now hammered them again. It seemed like the winds were much worse now as the rain seemed to pound the roof more diagonally. She turned her eyes back toward Horatio and dutifully felt his neck.

_Thank God. Still alive. _

At least the window wasn't broken on Horatio's side. That would protect him. For now he just lay still, his sleeping face toward her, the gray blanket tucked around his shoulders.

She had managed to pull the rear hatch closed to keep the rain from completely overtaking what dry space they had left. The water rippled against the cracked windows, blurring her view of the wet, dark, gray outside world.

On impulse the computer tech leaned forward, whimpering in pain, and pushed open the rear hatch again, just to see what was out there now. The rain just seemed to hold the two of them hostage. Even if she could start the Hummer now, she wasn't sure whether she could maneuver it through the deepening mud. The water was clearly rising. Wet clothes, papers, cardboard, and some computer parts that once lay in the mud were now floating in brown water, bobbing under the hard, dancing rain. It was just too depressing for her to take in. She turned her head away and pulled the hatch closed again.

Emmie looked at the small yellow radio that came with the survival pack. Maybe some music would keep her company, she thought. The radio stations crackled and hissed as she turned the small knob on the side. Finally she heard an old Eric Clapton song she recognized.

_Let__it__rain,__let__it__rain,  
>Let<em>_your__love__rain__down__on__me!  
>Let<em>_it__rain,__let__it__rain,  
>Let<em>_it__rain,__rain,__rain!_

In an instant she clenched her fists and snapped off the sound. "Dammit, shut up about the rain!" she snarled. "I'm sick of rain!" In an effort not to smash it against the wall, she merely opened her hand and let it drop to the floor with a clatter where it lay silent. Just seemed as though there was no escape. In a fit of hopelessness, she closed her eyes and wiped away a tear.

"Emmie."

She stirred and moaned. Had to have been a dream. Horatio was still out cold. Wasn't he?

"Emmie, are you in here?"

Immediately she bolted up and shifted toward the front seat. "Sir? Horatio?"

She could see from the faint light that his eyes were barely open. He held his forehead and seemed to look around painfully, trying to make sense of it all. Finally he could focus on her. Barely.

"Are you hurt, Emmie?"

Reflexively she covered her splint with the fire blanket. "Oh, no Sir. I'm fine. Really." She reached out to touch his head. "What about you? Your head feel okay?"

"Are you hurt?"

Emmie lowered her head. She wasn't sure how to tell him.

Slowly and painfully he reached out toward the dashboard with one hand while holding his head with the other. "Give me the police radio, Emmie. Turn it on."

She leaned forward to look into his painful eyes. "I don't know how."

Slowly he curled his fingers. "Turn that black knob to the right. Give me the receiver."

Emmie clicked on the knob. A hiss came from the speaker as she gently put the receiver in his hand. Slowly, painfully he held it up to his mouth. "Mayday, mayday" he said weakly. "Code 20. Over."

"Sir, can I get you something?"

Horatio didn't answer. "Mayday, mayday. Code 20. Please respond. Over." Slowly he let his hand fall to his leg, holding the receiver. "Change the frequency, Emmie." With that he fell silent again.

"Sir?"

No answer.

In the darkness she was just inches from his closed eyes. She snapped her fingers just inches from his face. "Oh God, no. Please, please wake up. Wake up!" She wanted to slap his face, shake him by the shoulders, anything to get him to wake up again. She reached down and felt his pulse. "Thank God." After that she bowed her head and closed her eyes. "Please come back. Please?"

_Radio_….

Her eyes fell on the dashboard. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Quickly she brushed the broken glass out of the way with her hands and reached for the gray handset on the black console. Emmie had never handled a police radio before, but there was no choice in the matter now. She squeezed the button.

"Mayday, mayday. Code, uh, officer needs immediate assistance. Over. Oh, God. Please work. Please, please work" she begged aloud, trying knobs and flipping switches one by one. "Please. Oh, God, please."

Nothing but hissing. She pushed in the talk button again.

"Mayday. Mayday. Police officer needs assistance. Can anybody hear me? Over."

No answer.

Emmie turned knobs to adjust the frequency. She diligently tried her distress call on each radio channel. Total silence. Was the Hummer was just in a low spot, or whether anybody really was monitoring a police radio out here? She knew someone had to be monitoring at least a police scanner or something somewhere.

"This is Emmie Stockburne with the Miami-Dade Police Department. Can anybody hear me? Over."

She continued for what seemed an hour or so until daylight was completely gone. In desperation she clicked off the radio and laid her face down on the vinyl console between the seats. She couldn't help it anymore. She banged the seat and cried in pain, fatigue, and frustration. "No! Somebody, please answer me!"

"It's okay, Emmie. Keep trying."

Satisfied that he didn't have a neck injury, Emmie held his jaw and turned his face toward her. In the darkness his blue eyes seemed to study her, but it was clear that he wasn't focusing.

"Horatio, please. Stay awake. Please?"

"Are you hurt?"

She lowered her eyes. "No, I'm fine."

"You're hurt."

"Sir, I swear, I'm fine. I can't get any answer on the radio."

"You're hurt, aren't you?"

She sat back and bowed her head. "My leg's broken, Sir."

"Did you try the radio?" Again he closed his eyes.

Dignity be damned. She allowed herself to cry freely now. After all, even Horatio couldn't hear her now. Her eyes still wet, she cracked open a green cyalume stick and just allowed herself to cry freely, wiping her nose with what dry Kleenex she could find. Nobody could hear her. Nobody could comfort her.

Exhausted, dirty, and in throbbing pain, Emmie now lay on her side and leaned her head on the console. From there she could see Horatio's sleeping face in the faint green light. "Horatio, please wake up?" Without thinking she leaned her forehead against his waist. Her forehead bumped up against something hard under his black jacket. She yanked her head back. "Whoa!"

Horatio still had his service revolver tucked into his holster. Gently she pulled it out and held onto it, careful not to put her finger in the trigger well. Emmie now rested her head on the console and watched her boss while she clutched his firearm.

"Strange, isn't it? I have to take care of you now. I don't even know where we are." She sniffed. "I qualified expert with the M16, but I don't even know how to work your nine millimeter!" She examined it again in the dim light. "Does this thing have a safety on it? How do I chamber a round?" She looked around. "If I see any gators out here, I'll have to shoot them. I've seen scorpions, camel spiders and rattlesnakes. But I'm scared of alligators."

Emmie reached under the fire blanket and picked up his hand. It was still warm. She held his hand and stroked it, hoping this might comfort him somehow, somewhere.

"I hope you know just how much everybody in that department loves you" she said, her voice choking. She could feel tears in her eyes again. "I'm really trying to fit in at that lab, and you're the only one who's nice to me. You're the only one I feel like I can trust. Horatio, I really think you're the only one who cares." She wiped her face again as she stared at the sheets of rain against the cracked windows.

"God, I hate Florida! How can anybody live in this heat and this rain? It never ends. I want to go skiing again! I want to walk in the mountains again."

She remembered how, in an instant, everything was gone. Her home. Her husband. The status she enjoyed as an officer's wife. "Dex? How could you leave me alone like this? Why did you have to die? Why? I know we didn't see each other much, but I loved you. And the damned Navy took you away."

The Hummer swayed gently in the strong wind now. Nothing but the pounding rain and the moaning wind to answer her cries. Maybe the heavens were crying for her too, she thought for an instant.

Emmie flipped over onto her side again, facing Horatio, studying him. She reached up and gently stroked his red hair, letting the dried blood and dirt fall out. She brushed it off his shoulders. She squeezed his hand tightly again. A fresh wave of tears welled up in her eyes.

"I'm gonna take care of you. I promise. Just like you take care of all of us. I have a responsibility, and I'm gonna carry it out. Because you'd do the same if it were me wouldn't you? I know you would. You just watch. I'm gonna make you proud."

Silence. The faint glow of the cyalume stick. Howling winds. Pounding rain. She looked out at the dark sky. "God, we have to live. " She lay back and stared up at the dark ceiling. "Both our lives are in Your Hands."

The wind and the rain suddenly died down.

"Amen."

Exhaustion won out. Emmie lay on her back and drifted off into a painful, fitful sleep.


	10. Mistaken Nonentity

**Chapter****10****—****Mistaken****Nonentity**

"_Good morning, Miami. Well, the top story of the day just seems to be this rain. We're going on our fifth straight day of steady rain, and that's due to a low-pressure system that's still parked off the Atlantic coast. We have flood warnings going up in just about every county from here to Tampa Bay. A state of emergency has been declared in Dade County, as well as several others. Melissa, any idea when we're gonna get a break from this rain?"_

Delko stirred and moaned tiredly, reflexively covering his head with his jacket. The morning news now blended in with his dream. He had slept on the break room couch with his arms folded as the television blared over him. He flinched when he felt something patting his shoulder.

"Delko! Hey, wake up, man" he heard Frank say to him.

He could hear the urgency in Frank's voice. The police officer in him took over. Quickly he sat up and rubbed his face before opening his bloodshot eyes. "Yeah. Tripp? What's going on?"

"County's in a state of emergency because of the flooding. Horatio and Emmie are now officially missing. We didn't hear anything about them last night. So we're gonna need you guys to pull twelve-hour shifts until this thing's over."

A bleary-eyed Delko yawned and stretched his arms while he looked at Frank. "Yeah, okay. I'm getting up now."

Frank backed up from him. "Go home if you can. Grab a shower and a change of clothes." He glanced at his watch as he spoke. "It's six o'clock right now. Need you back at six tonight."

Delko nodded sleepily. "What about you, Tripp?"

Frank motioned behind him. "Stetler cut me and half of us loose last night. I'm on days while he goes home. He and I are gonna trade off. He'll be back tonight. Weather's still pretty bad, so air's still grounded. Soon as they lift that tornado watch, we're gonna be looking."

The reality hit Delko now as he slowly came to life. "So they still don't know anything?"

Frank shook his head. "Nothing. Emmie's parents called up to file a missing persons report. Stetler took the call. It'll get out to the news eventually that Horatio's missing. We don't need them to know that a Stockburne's missing too. So do whatever it is you have to do today." Frank now turned to leave. "See you tonight. Watch those roads."

* * *

><p>Having had sufficient sleep, Delko simply gathered himself and drove to Casey Automotive and Tires. The rain and wind continued to pound Florida. He kept both hands on the steering wheel as he crawled through the grayness and meandered around brown pools on the pavement.<p>

At the desk stood an older, thin, graying man who looked like he'd been fixing cars for the better part of forty years. His brown uniform was smudged, but his name was visible. Delko ignored the pounding rain on the steel roof and the hissing of air shocks in the bays.

The older man put his hands together as he looked at Delko intently. "Morning, young man. You're the first guy in here I haven't had to pull out of the mud" he said heartily.

Delko smiled slightly. He lifted arm to show his badge. "Yes, Sir. Eric Delko with the Miami-Dade PD. I'm checking up on some repairs your garage made to a 2000 Chevy Lumina last week. It belonged to Angela Miller."

A sad look crossed the man's face now. "Yeah. Eric Miller. Too bad. I heard about that on the news."

"Yeah, it is. We understand the Chevy Lumina was serviced last week for a lube and oil and a tire rotation. And then Angela Miller had to bring it back because the turn signals went out."

The man dipped his brown eyes and busily clicked a keyboard in front of him. "Hold on, young man. Let's see, uh, Miller. Chevy Lumina. Bear with me. My girl couldn't make in today on account of the roads, so I'm not too good with this thing." He squinted at the old brown computer screen for a moment. "Yeah. It says here that on Monday the car got worked on. Angela brought it in for routine work. Lube and oil would've been fine, but it says here…." He raised his eyebrows. "That's funny. She got those tires about a month ago. All four of them were brand new. Not sure why she'd need them rotated so soon."

Delko pursed his lips as he nodded thoughtfully.

"But wait a minute now. It also said the turn signals went out on that same car. Brought it back Thursday. My son checked that car himself." He motioned with his grease-stained hand toward the bays. "White Chevy Lumina. Saw it up there on the lift." A confused look crossed his face now. "That doesn't make sense either, now that I think of it. Fixing the turn signals? And he had it up on the lift."

Delko raised his eyebrows. "Your son?"

"Yeah. Patrick Casey's my son, Officer. Want me to have him call you?"

"Yes Sir, I'm going to need to talk to your son. Do you have the old parts your son took off that Lumina?"

The man thought for a moment. "Yeah. Wait here. Now I have to let you know that the first repair wasn't made in here. We were really busy all last week, so we have a garage down the road for overflow work."

Delko looked at the man firmly. "I'm gonna need those old parts. Okay if I have a look inside your other garage?"

The man grabbed his key ring. "Sure. Good thing we had the rain, because the scrap guy was supposed to come this morning and haul all of that stuff away. He couldn't make it because of the flooding."

Delko's brown eyes darted warily as he followed the man through the noisy repair bays. Any evidence from the turn signal repair was probably long gone by now, he thought. But he would go ahead and at least glance. Nothing out of the ordinary.

* * *

><p>Ryan was hunched over a lighted magnifier. He glanced up at the bleary-eyed CSI. "You're not gonna sleep, are you?" he said with a grin.<p>

Delko smirked. "Nah, man. Can't."

Ryan turned his head back to the magnifier. "Not worried about Horatio, are you?"

Delko sniffed. "No more than you're worried about Emmie."

That did it. Ryan gently pushed the lighted magnifier out of the way and stared into the distance. "I hope she's okay."

Delko raised his eyebrows now. "Yeah. Me too."

Ryan stiffened up when his phone chirped. He glanced at it before flipping it open. "Yeah." He furrowed his eyebrows now. "You sure? Does Angela Miller know about this?" He dipped his brown eyes now. "Really? Yeah, I'd say that changes everything. Yeah, be right over." With troubled eyes he snapped his cell phone shut.

"Who is it?" Delko wanted to know, still holding out hope that there might be word from Horatio or Emmie.

Ryan looked at him matter-of-factly. "Tyler did a little digging around into Melissa Matherson's background. Don't know what she was crying about."

* * *

><p>Both Delko and Ryan now stood behind Tyler as he clicked the keys.<p>

"Checked with the county probate" Tyler told them, never taking his eyes off the screen. "Wonder how Angela Miller felt when she found out she's gonna have to share."

"What are you talking about?" Ryan wanted to know.

A document came to life on the main monitor. "Eric Miller's Last Will and Testament. Just got filed with probate." He pointed with the cursor. "Eric Miller had his will changed last year."

Ryan furrowed his eyebrows. "That's right about the time Melissa Matherson came to Miami" he noted.

Delko leaned forward as his eyes scanned the printing. "Right there, Tyler. 'In the event of my death, all of my estate shall go to my wife, Angela Miller.'" He shook his head. "Okay. So what's the big deal? She's his wife."

Tyler nodded as he scrolled down. "Added this codicil. Thought you might want to check this out."

Both Ryan and Delko scanned the screen before they looked at one another. "'In the event that Melissa Matherson is living in Miami, Florida at the time of my death, half of my estate shall go to my wife, Angela Miller, and the other half shall go to Melissa Matherson'" Delko read aloud. "Sounds like our crying meteorologist had motive, wouldn't you say?"

Ryan smirked. "Yeah, but I've been over to their house. Didn't look like they had a whole lot. Old house, old furniture, two old cars, a lazy dog…."

"Gotta show you something else." He clicked the keys again. "Bank statements. Don't know if Angela Miller knew about these or not."

Delko's and Ryan's eyes widened. "I guess looks can be deceiving."

Tyler smiled slightly. "And another one just made it to probate. It's an account he had in the Cayman Islands." He clicked the keys again. Another statement came to life on the monitor. "He'd been keeping it offshore until last year."

"About the time Melissa Matherson moved to Miami" Ryan said. "God. Eric Miller was worth that much? And he was still working? I think I'd change my name and hide somewhere."

Delko and Ryan were speechless now.

"Explains how he could afford to send Melissa Matherson that much money every month" Delko said.

Tyler smiled now. "Hey guys? I saved the best for last." He clicked the keys yet again. More documents popped up onto the monitor.

Delko nodded now. "His name wasn't Eric Miller, either."


	11. A Voice in the Wilderness

**Hi, folks. Sorry for the late update. Hit a rough stretch of road, but I think things are sorting out.**

**Code 20 is police radio for "officer needs immediate assistance. And a special thanks to SkyWarn, which was able to patch me through to my family after the 1989 San Francisco earthquake.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11—A Voice in the Wilderness<strong>

Even before she opened her eyes, Emmie could hear the _drip,__drip_, _drip_ of the rain leaking in through the broken driver's side window. The Hummer swayed gently in the wind, causing her to shift slightly. Without thought, she propped up her good leg to keep her balance. She tilted her head sideways and opened her eyes, blinking at the gray morning light.

She felt like she hadn't really slept at all. It seemed more like her body was exhausted and had simply shut down for a while. The aspirin she took earlier had worn off, and now her head and shoulder were throbbing again. Her splinted leg felt worse now. Her eyes felt swollen and crusty.

She moaned and stared up at the ceiling of the Hummer that had been her only refuge from the cold, wet, windy world outside. As her senses returned, she looked around. It occurred to her that she was still out in the middle of a rainy, windy nowhere. But she knew she had to get up now.

Horatio was unconscious, still wrapped in his blanket, but his head had shifted slightly. He might have come to during the night. First order of business was to check his pulse again. She leaned up painfully and held her fingers to his neck.

_Thank God. Still alive. _

Emmie put her head down and stared at her sleeping boss again. "Morning, Sir. Guess we made it through the night, huh?"

Nothing but the moaning wind and rain to answer her. She just stared at his sleeping face for what seemed a long time.

"Just think. I can tell everyone I slept with my boss, and nobody will be offended."

In the storminess, she now heard a noise that seemed completely out of place. Carefully and painfully she sat up. The rain pounding against the cracked windows made impossible for her to see much of anything. She squirmed through the dirt and the broken glass and pushed the hatch open, peering out at the driving rain.

Fear shot through her heart like the lightning that had been darting across the skies. "Oh, my God" she whispered.

The water had risen quite a bit during the night. Their makeshift shelter now sat in the middle of a muddy lake. She estimated that it had to have been nearly a foot deep by now. She scanned the swaying trees and shrubs behind the Hummer. Many of the clothes, cables, and even her laptop case were nowhere to be seen. The computer tech simply stared, processing the idea that those things may have floated away. Or maybe even eaten by alligators. Her heart pounded as the reality set in.

To stay here might be to die, she thought. But what about Horatio? She glanced back at him. Even if he woke up again, he couldn't walk. Leaving him here wasn't an option. Even if she could carry him, she had no idea how far it would be to the road. Even if she found the road in this rain, there was the ever-present danger of alligators. And even if she did defy the odds and carried Horatio to the road, she knew that they were out in the middle of nowhere. That cold rain might have caused them both to die of hypothermia.

No, to stay in the Hummer was their only hope of survival.

Emmie pulled the hatch closed and leaned her head back. "I gotta try again" she said loudly. She resolved that if she could get the Hummer started again, she would somehow get in there and try to drive it through the water, through the mowed-down weeds and bushes, back toward the road. At least that would bring them closer to civilization, she reasoned.

Slowly and painfully she squirmed toward the console, dragging her splinted leg, and turned the key in the ignition. For a moment the engine cranked. She tried again several times as the engine strained and whined in protest. Finally on the third try it turned over and came to life.

"Oh, yes! Yes! Yes! Thank God!" she said, her eyes welling up with tears. The dashboard lit up. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen in her life, she thought. Emmie started to hoist herself up by her arms, determined to get back into that wet, glass-littered driver's seat now.

Her hopes sank when the engine suddenly sputtered and went dead. Emmie laid her forehead on the console.

"Dammit! Come on!"

She turned the key again. The engine cranked more painfully this time. Refusing to give up, she held the key in place as the engine strained.

_BANG!_

Emmie shrieked and shrank back when something flashed under the hood. An acrid smell wafted into the cab now. She whimpered and fanned it away in fear. The Hummer stayed silent. "No! Please!" she wailed.

"Emmie? What happened?" a voice mumbled.

"Sir? Oh God. How do you feel?"

He was looking at her with weary eyes. No other part of him moved. "You're hurt, aren't you?"

"I heard a…noise." He weakly reached his hand out. "Give me the radio."

Gingerly she put it into his hand. "Mayday, mayday. Code…code…20. Immediate…immediate…assistance." With that his arm slumped back down to his side and his eyes closed again.

This time Emmie could only bow her head and sigh. There were no words. There was the temptation to reach over, shake him by the shoulders, and yell at him to wake up. No, he was out cold again. She looked at the radio that lay limply in his hand. Carefully she pried it out of his grip. "Mayday. Officer needs assistance, over." Total silence. She switched channels one by one and repeated her call.

"Mayday. Officer needs assistance. Over." She lay her head down in exhausted frustration.

Emmie looked at Horatio's sleeping face again. This was their only hope.

* * *

><p>The boy fumbled with knobs on the black radio console as he searched for another channel. Nothing of interest to him seemed to be happening right now. Mostly chatter about the flooding conditions and the road closures. He twisted the dial to another frequency. Some spin-up tornadoes near Boca Raton. He shrugged, oblivious to his nice, dry, clean, air-conditioned surroundings.<p>

His head whipped around in surprise when the door creaked open. "Oh, hey Dad" he said nonchalantly as he turned his attention back to the radio.

The man huffed. "David! How long have you been on that thing?"

The boy shrugged. "Not that long."

His father firmed up his voice. "Well get off there! We have to keep those channels open!"

David looked at his father and huffed. "School's closed, Dad. Got nothing else to do."

"Get off the radio, David, or I'll find something for you! Somebody might need those frequencies!"

David still stared at the console. "Yeah, Dad. Be out in a sec." As his father shut the door, the boy turned his attention back to the radio. Maybe one of his friends was out there. He kept tuning, hoping.

Suddenly the speakers crackled. He stared at the black console again.

"Mayday. Mayday. Police officer needs immediate assistance. Over." The transmission hissed out again.

David just stared at the console, not sure what to make of it. From the hissing noise, he could tell it was bleedover, bouncing off the clouds from somewhere distant. But the voice sounded tired and desperate.

The airwaves hissed again.

"Mayday. Mayday. Police officer needs immediate assistance. Can anyone hear me? Please respond. Over."

The boy glanced back and forth between the console and the door now.

The door behind him flew open angrily. His father stood behind him with a more determined look now. "Dammit, David, I told you—"

"Mayday. Mayday. Miami-Dade County police officer needs immediate assistance" a tired voice said. The airwaves hissed into silence again.

The boy looked at his father with wide eyes now. "Dad?"

The man held up his hand and shushed the boy. He turned all of his attention onto the black console.

"Mayday. Mayday. Miami-Dade police officer needs immediate assistance. Can anyone hear me? Please respond. Over."

"Out of there _now_!" The boy obeyed, knowing that his father smelled an emergency and wasn't about to let a bored kid get in the way of things. The man grabbed the handset.

"This is DeSoto County Sky Warn calling Miami-Dade police officer. Over" he said urgently. "What's your twenty? Over."

Silence. The man stayed transfixed on the black console, hoping the voice would come back.

"Mayday. Mayday. Miami-Dade police officer needs immediate assistance. Can anyone hear me? Please respond. Over." The voice sounded as though it had heard nothing. That voice still tiredly, painfully called for help.

Everything flew together in the man's head now. "David, call 911. Now!" he ordered of his son in a not-to-be-argued-with tone. The boy didn't hesitate. He quickly pulled out his cell phone.

"What do you want me to tell him, Dad?" David asked.

The man huffed and snatched it out of his hand. "Give me that! Yes, I'm a radio operator with DeSoto County SkyWarn." With one ear to his radio console, he rattled off his license number. "I'm picking up distress calls from what sounds like a woman who keeps saying she's a Miami-Dade County police officer. Hang on!"

Without waiting for the dispatcher to answer, he pointed the phone at his radio console.

"Mayday. Mayday. Miami-Dade police officer needs immediate assistance. Can anyone hear me? Please respond. Over." The desperate, lonely, tired voice faded away again.

The man pursed his lips. "This just might be your missing police officer."


	12. Making Contact

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've posted another chapter. I've taken on new responsibilities, one of them being chapter president for a local public speaking club. Thanks for your patience.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 12—Making Contact<strong>

Tyler clicked the keys as his eyes darted between the documents on his desk and the keyboard. "Here's their name change certificates. Filed in Colorado in 1986."

Calleigh nodded with a resolve. "Robert and Darlene Creech legally changed their names to Eric and Angela Miller." She stared at the monitor. "I wonder why that is. Do some more digging."

"Already did. I used the face recognition software. It scans a photo and then pinpoints facial features to any photo in a particular database. I came up with this. Robert and Darlene Creech of Gunnison, Colorado.

Calleigh's green eyes scanned the newspaper clipping on the main monitor. "Yep, that's them. That explains it. 'Local couple win the Lotto jackpot. An all-time record of fifty-two million.' At least it was back then." She paused. "So Robert Creech was a deejay at a country station Gunnison, Colorado back in 1986 when he and his wife won the Colorado state lottery. It says here that after taxes they took a lump sum of forty million."

Tyler nodded. "I bet they had to disappear. Probably had all kinds of 'friends' they didn't know about."

"I don't get it" Calleigh thought aloud. "Why go through all the trouble to change your name and move away from Colorado, and then become a TV meteorologist in Houston and then in Miami? Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose?"

Tyler looked at her. "Maybe he was just trying to be too obvious. He might've been hiding in plain sight."

Calleigh never took her eyes off the monitor. "Anything about Melissa Matherson in there?"

Tyler brought up several more documents on the main monitor. "Nothing special about her. Just a meteorologist from the Houston area."

"And not a very good one at that. She followed Eric Miller here from Houston. She admitted he was the baby's biological father. Eric Miller split his estate between Melissa Matherson and his wife of almost thirty years. According to his bank records, he'd been paying her every month until recently. On top of that, Angela Miller's car was tampered with, and Eric Miller had a lethal dose of Benadryl in his system. Somebody definitely wanted one or both of them dead, and it probably had a lot to do with money." Calleigh leveled her eyes at the screen.

"Or maybe justice" Tyler added, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"What are you talking about?"

Tyler watched the screen as several documents flashed in front of him. "Found this. Filed in Colorado in 1996."

Calleigh scanned the monitor. "A wrongful death suit filed against Creech Pharmaceuticals. And Robert Creech is named as a co-defendant."

"Didn't they go bankrupt?"

Calleigh nodded. "Let me see the bank statement from the Cayman Islands again."

Tyler clicked keys again as the estate document sprang up on the monitor now. "Robert Creech opened that bank account in 1988. Probably a tax shelter."

"Bring up Creech Pharmaceuticals" Calleigh ordered.

Tyler clicked keys again. "Creech Pharmaceuticals. Based out of Aurora, Colorado. Specialized in making hospital-grade pharmaceuticals, mostly liquid form. They cornered the market on Benadryl after the patent ran out. The company settled out of court, but Robert Creech was acquitted of any wrongdoing."

"Eric Miller had almost three times the lethal dose of Benadryl in his system when he crashed. He was allergic to it anyway." Calleigh thought for a moment. "Bring up that lawsuit again."

Calleigh nodded at the document in front of her. "Compensation for the wrongful death of Mark Matherson, who was admitted to Summit County General and died from a lethal dose of hospital-grade Benadryl from Creech Pharmaceuticals." She looked at Tyler now. "Mark Matherson."

"Think there's any relation?"

"I don't know, but our weathergirl is looking more and more like a murder suspect." She furrowed her eyebrows now. "But one thing I don't understand. Eric Miller never had any connections to the pharmaceutical industry. How was he involved in this lawsuit?"

Tyler clicked with the mouse now. "Creech Pharmaceuticals. Here you go." He stiffened up and then looked at Calleigh. "That's not Eric Miller."

Calleigh looked at the AV tech. "Looks like somebody killed the wrong Robert Creech."

* * *

><p>Emmie was exhausted again. She had been flipping through police radio channels and calling for help for what seemed quite a while. The rain and high winds continued to pound the battered Hummer. Fortunately Horatio seemed to fade in and out of consciousness more and more, longer and longer, but he seemed too sleepy or confused. Each time he spoke she would reach forward and touch his face before he would fade out again.<p>

Discouragement was setting in. Hanging onto the dangling cargo strap, she shifted her body and sat up, leaning her back against the cold, damp, rain-pummeled wall, getting her back wet from the condensation. She glanced out at the ripples of water that just seemed to keep coming.

The computer tech had lost all sense of time now. She could only guess that it was mid morning. She couldn't even tell which way clouds were moving. Slowly she looked around at the scattered glass, the used paper napkins with which she'd wiped tears off her face, and the blood-soaked Kleenex that she had used to clean Horatio's sleeping face. She leaned her head on her drawn-up knee and closed her eyes. Hope was fading fast.

Emmie held her head up when she heard a sound that seemed out of place now. The _drip,__drip,__drip_ of rain trickling into the driver's side door now had a fuller sound. She strained and leaned back to see what was happening.

"Oh my God" she whispered. Adrenaline shot through her tired, pain-racked body.

The brown water was rising into the cab, just an inch under the accelerator. It was still dry in the back area where she had been sitting, but she could also see that Horatio's shoes were dangerously close to the brown water.

Painfully she leaned forward and unlatched the back of his seat, gently letting him recline. He was out again. She glanced around frantically.

Emmie unhooked the cargo strap that had been dangling from the ceiling. That would do. Carefully she looped it under his shoulders, hoping against hope he didn't have any neck or back injuries. Carefully, painfully, she slid herself behind him and snaked the red strap around his chest. Slowly he slid head first toward her. His head flopped down against her chest as she carefully and painfully walked him up to safety. Emmie looked at her sleeping boss for a long time before she stuffed a towel under his head. His shoes were wet from having been in the rising water.

"I've gotta keep trying that radio, Horatio. I don't know what else to do" she said softly, wiping a tear from her face. "You'd keep trying if it were me lying here, wouldn't you?" With fresh resolve she picked up the handset and pushed the talk button.

"Mayday. Officer needs assistance. Over."

Total silence. Again.

"Mayday. Officer needs assistance. Over." She lay her head down in exhausted frustration.

"This is the Charlotte County Police Radio Frequency. Identify yourself!" an official male voice on the radio squawked back.

Emmie gasped and sprung up from her tiredness. With cold, wet, trembling hands she pushed in the talk button. "Oh, thank God! Thank God! Please, my name's Emmie Stockburne. I'm a computer tech with the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. I have Lieutenant Horatio Caine with me! We've been in a wreck! Over." She breathed deeply with new hope.

The radio went silent again.

"What's your location? Over."

"I don't know. We got lost and then had a wreck. I think Lieutenant Caine has a concussion. My leg's broken and my cell phone doesn't work. Our police vehicle is totaled. Over." Her voice cracked, and she trembled now. She made no more effort to control her fear. "Please? Please help us. Over."

The voice sensed her terror and inexperience with a police radio and softened his voice. "Emmie, keep talking. Like I said, we have a manhunt for you and Lieutenant Caine. Everything's been grounded because of the high winds, so we'd have to do a ground search."

Emmie no longer restrained her tears. "We're both stuck in the Hummer. The water's rising, and I can't move. I don't even know where the road is" she sobbed. "Please help us. Over."

"Emmie, you and Lieutenant Caine hang on. Help is on the way. There's been a manhunt for you and Lieutenant Caine between Miami and Clearwater. The first thing I'm gonna do is patch you through to the Miami-Dade Police Department. We're gonna let them know you're both alive. The radio's gonna go silent for a few minutes, but hang on. I'm right here. Over."

She wiped her face with the heel of her hand. "Thank you. Over."


	13. The Calm During the Storm

**A/N: I want to thank everyone for their patience while chapters aren't coming as quickly. Besides taking on new responsibilities, I've had to make a number of changes (Thanks to JackCracker for pointing some things out for me), and I want each chapter to be just right. With Christmas weekend, I hope to have maybe at least one more before Monday.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 13—The Calm During the Storm<strong>

Frank Tripp burst into the lab with the cell phone to his ear. Ryan looked up, startled.

"Wolfe! Computer lab! Now! Got Emmie on the police radio" he nearly shouted. "She's asking about you, man!"

"Yeah! Be right there!" Ryan was half police officer and half excited boy as he grabbed his radio and nearly flew out of the lab, not even bothering to take off his lab coat.

Ryan joined Frank, Alexx, and Calleigh now. Even though the darkness, the wind and the rain still pounding on the outside walls, there was a renewed sense of hope in the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. All eyes were on Tyler and the overhead speakers.

"How's she doing?" Ryan wanted to know.

Frank shushed him. "Tyler, get her on the overhead speaker" he ordered. "SkyWarn picked up their distress calls about an hour ago and patched them through to the Charlotte County dispatch."

* * *

><p>A voice came in over the speakers in the computer lab. "Detective Tripp? Charlotte County Dispatch. I'm patching Emmie Stockburne through now. Over."<p>

Frank spoke into his handheld. "Thanks for your help, Officer. Over. Emmie, you there? Over."

"Frank? God, I'm so glad to talk to you. Over." a feeble, tearful voice said from a distance.

"We got you on the overhead speakers in the computer lab. Charlotte County Dispatch told us everything. How you and Horatio holding up there? Over."

She hugged herself and shivered now. "I won't lie, Frank. I'm really scared. We're stuck here, and the water just keeps rising. Over."

"Emmie, the County's in a state of emergency right now. Partly because of the flood and because you and Horatio went missing. Now look. There's high winds over the area, and air search is grounded right now, but Charlotte County Dispatch is trying to pinpoint your location. Ground patrol is having a hard time reaching you because of the flooded roads. But Charlotte County's tracking your radio signals, so you have to keep talking. Over."

"You don't know how much I've wanted to do that. Over."

"Now you just stay with us. Can you describe the last thing you saw before you crashed? It'll help Ground Rescue pinpoint your location better. Over."

She paused to dry her tears. "I'm…trying to remember. It, uh…. Wait. We came off Highway 73 on our way to I-75. Yeah, that's right. And then I went down some two-lane road and had to detour to the left because the road was flooded out. For about an hour we were on an isolated road. It was a high swamp road, really narrow pavement." She bowed her head and closed her eyes to think. "Uh, I remember the road suddenly curved to the right. There were what I think were dead alligators in the road." She sighed. "I didn't have time to react. I know that's not a lot of help. Over."

Frank nodded with a resolve. "That's a lot more help than you realize. That'll give patrol an idea where you went off the road. How's Horatio doing? He there? Over."

"He keeps waking up and going out. Right now he's unconscious again. Is Alexx there? Over."

Alexx stepped forward. "I'm right here, Sweetie. Most of us are here. We slept in shifts waiting for you. Over."

The tired, injured computer tech paused. "You waited for us? Over."

The mother hen wanted to reach through the airwaves and hug the helpless, crying warrior. "Of course we did. You and Horatio are like family to us" she said firmly but compassionately.

Emmie wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand as she thought about what the Alexx had said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now describe to me what's happening with Horatio. Over."

"Well, I'm doing my best to keep him warm and dry. I had to move him because of the water. I've got him on his back."

"Now Emmie, did you say he keeps fading in and out?"

"Yeah. And he seems to be confused. Just asks me the same questions over and over. I think he's getting better. He stays awake for longer periods of time now. I'm doing my best, but I had to splint my right leg. I wrapped him in a fire blanket and put a towel under his head. It looks like he has a gash on the back of his head. Over."

Alexx paused to digest the information. "Sounds like a moderate concussion. Did you check him for any fractures? Over."

"Yes. I ran my hands along his arms and legs and before I moved him. I really couldn't check his back, but he didn't seem to have anything broken. I even checked for dilated pupils. Nothing. Over."

"Emmie, he might still have a spinal cord injury. Did you check him for an erection? Over."

There was silence. "I didn't copy that. Over."

"Emmie, a penile erection is the most reliable sign of a spinal cord injury in men. So I want you to check Horatio just to be sure. Over."

Tired as she was, Emmie furrowed her eyebrows. Horatio was her boss. She couldn't bring herself to touch him like that. "You want me to do _what_? Over."

Alexx never wavered. "Emmie? Listen to me. It's the only way, Sweetie. Over."

She closed her eyes and clenched her free hand defensively. "I am _not_ taking his pants off! Over!" she said adamantly. Even through the pain and weariness, the computer tech felt herself flushing.

Calleigh and Ryan smiled. Frank turned away momentarily. Alexx ignored them as she spoke in that soft, firm, motherly tone. "Emmie? Nobody's asking you to do that. Just reach out and feel him with your hand. You don't have to take anything off him. Over."

Emmie closed her eyes as she stretched out her hand cautiously toward her boss.

In the grayness Horatio stirred and barely opened his eyes. "Emmie?"

She felt a chill. _Oh God, why now?_

"Emmie? What's happening?"

"Uh, nothing Sir."

"What are you doing?"

She swallowed as she carefully separated the fire blanket and reached for his crotch. _I hope to God he doesn't know I'm doing this_!

"Give me the radio Alexx" Calleigh said. Alexx handed her the radio. "Here you go."

Calleigh had a slight smile in her voice. "Emmie, it's Calleigh. Just close your eyes and pretend it's Kevin from Tallahassee. Over."

Ryan and Frank raised their eyebrows curiously. "What's she talking about?" Frank whispered.

Silence. "Oh God. Calleigh, you swore you wouldn't say anything! Over!"

_She's right. Just pretend he's someone else_. Her eyes closed tightly, Emmie reached over and probed his privates quickly and thoroughly with her fingers, just enough to find out what she needed to, before yanking her hand back. He never said a word.

"What are you doing, Emmie?" the tired voice said again.

The computer tech covered her eyes with embarrassment. "Nothing, Sir. I-just trying to keep you warm." She shuddered. "Alexx, he's fi-, uh, nothing, uh, based on what Alexx told me to do, Lieutenant Caine shows no signs of spinal cord injury! Over!"

"I hear his voice in the background. Can you put him on the speaker?"

She picked up his pale right hand and tried to rest the mouthpiece firmly in his grip, only to see his hand relax, dropping it onto the floor. His eyes closed again.

"Dammit, he's out again, Alexx."

"It sounds like you're doing everything you can. I know you're scared, but they're looking for you now. Is there anything else? Over."

Emmie paused. "Could I please talk to Ryan for a minute? Over."

"Of course you can. I'm handing you to him right now. Over." Ryan held his hand out, as Alexx handed him the black handheld.

"Emmie? It's Ryan. Over."

"Hi Ryan. I just wanted to talk to you for a little bit. Over."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's no problem. I guess we all know how you're feeling. Over."

At the sound of Ryan's voice, Emmie closed her eyes and clutched the handset more tightly. Another tear ran down her face. She wiped it away and hugged herself. But the tears just kept coming. For the first time she felt true comfort and peace in that damp, dirty, storm-pounded wreck. For the first time she was able to shut out the pain, the hunger, the weariness, the fear. For the first time, she forgot that the Hummer's battery might run out or that she and Horatio might drown before anyone found them. She no longer cared that her voice could be heard all over the Miami-Dade Computer Lab. "Ryan, if I get out of here—"

"_When_ you and Horatio get out of there, Emmie! _When_, not _if_! You and Horatio are gonna make it through this!" he insisted. He couldn't think of the alternative. "Can I just ask you a question? Over."

"Sure. Over."

"Who's this Kevin from Tallahassee? Over."

"We had a dance party here, I mean at the hotel last night—make that a couple of nights ago. This guy named Kevin tried to hit on me. Don't worry, Ryan. Nothing happened."

Ryan tightened his lips. "Just wondering. Over."

"Ryan?"

"I'm still here. Over."

"Are you jealous? Over."

Frank had to smile. "Keep her talking" he whispered, motioning toward the radio as he took out his cell phone.

Ryan's eyes darted between the speakers and the floor. "You're too good for some guy you met in a bar, Emmie! Over." He couldn't think of anything else to say at that moment.

"Maybe you and I could do something together, then? Over."

He nodded, his eyes still on the speaker. "I promise. _When_ you get back. Over."


	14. Rivers of Death

**Chapter 14—Rivers of Death**

After yet another sleep, Horatio opened his eyes. This time he took a deep breath and focused on his surroundings. Now he could feel the cool dampness and the mud under his shirt. This time he was alert enough to hear the rain and even feel Emmie's silent despair.

"Emmie?"

No more excitement. No more crying. Emmie numbly lay on her side and looked into Horatio's bloodshot eyes. They were tired and unaware. For the first time since the accident he seemed more alert. "Sir, how are you feeling?"

He groaned and slowly picked up his body, bit by bit, leaning himself against the cold, wet wall, cradling his head. Instinctively he held out his reddened hand. "Give me the radio."

Gingerly she placed the speaker in his hand, where he slowly clasped it. "The local police patched us through to the crime lab. Everybody's there."

"Frank? You there?" he said weakly.

Frank jerked his head up. "Yeah! Hey! Horatio! How are you and Emmie holding up?"

He breathed deeply and held his head. "I think I'm coming around. How's everybody at the crime lab? Over."

"We're all doing fine, H" Delko nearly yelled at the radio. "Been watching out for Emmie. She's been holding ground while you were out."

"Charlotte County pinpointed your location" Frank said. "Now it's just a matter of getting to you. You and Emmie need to keep talking. Over."

Horatio had no sooner pushed in the talk button when he and Emmie heard what sounded like roaring surf. The Hummer now shook violently, causing Horatio to fall on his side. The handset flew forward again and rested on the driver's seat. Emmie fell face down and shrieked in pain.

Horatio's weak eyesight was greeted by a gush of brown water that had now seeped into the Hummer. Emmie picked up her head and whimpered in terror as water had begun to slosh in through the cracks of the doors and through the hatch. Instinctively dug her fingernails in and tried to crawl up away from the water, to no avail. Despite his weakness, Horatio rolled over and held himself over her. "Hold still, Emmie" he reassured into her ear. "Don't move. I've got you."

Adrenaline shot through Frank when he heard only silence. "Horatio? Emmie? You there? Over!"

As the Hummer groaned and bounced beneath her, Emmie could feel even more water underneath her, soaking her clothes, choking and coughing as it ran into her nose. Quickly Horatio snaked his arm under her neck, pulling her head up, keeping her from drowning. He could look up enough to see more water splashing in through the broken window. It was now swallowing them up.

Now it felt like the Hummer was drifting.

Fear gripped them now as Alexx, Ryan and Frank stood by. "Emmie? Horatio?" Frank bellowed. "Answer me!"

Only silence.

The Hummer now swayed and creaked as the flood waters began to move, sweeping it along.

"Hold on, Emmie!" Horatio yelled above the noise. By now there must have been two inches of water beneath them. She closed her eyes and wailed, holding his arm more tightly.

Now the whole world tilted. The heaviness of the Hummer's engine caused the nose to tip down into the water, causing them to slide toward the cab. Instead of the usual pounding rain, Horatio saw dirty brown water pound angrily on the windshield. They were sinking.

The Hummer finally came to rest against a cluster of trees with a thump. Horatio glanced around quickly, knowing he would have to do something. "Emmie, face me! Hold tightly onto my waist!"

The scared, shivering computer tech slid around, clenching her teeth when pain shot through her broken leg again. She obediently wrapped both arms around his waist, holding on as though in a death grip, nearly suffocating him. As weak as he was, he knew it would be up to him to save them both. He knew that to stay in that Hummer would be to drown.

Horatio quickly unhooked the cargo strap that hung over them and quickly tightened it around them, pulling up inch by inch, until he could hook onto a tree limb. In his mind Horatio knew he could pull them both to safety. But as he pushed them closer to the edge, his weakness almost caused him to give way. His feet began to slip, but he then held more tightly onto the strap. But he knew there were no other options. It was either get out of that Hummer or drown.

He yanked along the cargo strap, one pull at a time, into the cluster of branches that he knew would support them, well above the creeping brown water, above the alligators and floating garbage. The rain blinded them both. Emmie held her face into Horatio's shoulder so the rain wouldn't drown her. He braced himself and Emmie between the branches.

Horatio looked up through the driving rain when he heard another horrible groan and creak. The Hummer now slowly disappeared nose first into the brown river, sending up air bubbles, wrappers, plastic water packets, and more clothes. It could have been them.

Frank closed his eyes. "Horatio? Emmie? Answer me, dammit! Over!"

Silence.

All eyes were on the overhead speaker. Without a word he laid down the handheld. Alexx quietly walked out of the room. Calleigh dipped her head and folded her arms.

"Please be alive" Frank begged, his eyes still on the speaker.

In his weakness Horatio knew he couldn't support the both of them for long. "Grab a branch and hold on" Horatio shouted over the roaring water. "I'm not gonna let us go! I promise!"

Emmie obediently reached for the nearest branch, looking down as the brown water raced along just inches below her foot, threatening to swallow them up. Horatio settled them onto a fork.

Without warning Emmie could feel the branches dip and groan. "No!"

Horatio stiffened up as the tree began to sag, threatening to dump both of them into the river of death just below. Emmie held even more tightly to Horatio and began to sob. She pondered that for the both of them this would be it. She felt her whole world tilt upward, as though Horatio was trying to stand. He'd been able to grab another cluster of branches. The one that had held them before now snapped and fell into the brown water and floated away.

It only seemed as though she had held onto him a few minutes when she could hear a boat motor from behind them.

"See that? They found us!" he yelled into her ear again. "We're going home!" Horatio waved with his free hand. "Over here, gentlemen!"

Emmie could only hang onto him and cry uncontrollably like a frightened little girl.

The small rescue boat pulled alongside as Horatio quickly pulled the cargo strap off his waist and threw it to the orange-vested police officer.

"Lieutenant Caine? Emmie Stockburne?" he yelled above the noise.

Horatio began to pry Emmie loose from his shoulders. "You better go first."

She slowly loosened her grip as he eased her down to the gray rescue boat. With her good leg she let herself slide down to the rain-soaked bench. The orange-vested officer reached and grabbed her around the waist.

"Come on, Ma'am. Careful."

"I think my leg's broken" she sobbed as he carefully lowered her to the rain-drenched seat.

Horatio wasted no time in stepping down from the branches, carefully into the boat. He was still weak and disoriented from his head injury, and he quickly sat down. "Good to see you, Gentlemen" he yelled, bending down and holding his head.

"Charlotte County Rescue" one of them said. "We've been looking for you!"

One orange-vested rescuer steered the boat carefully through the current. Emmie shivered and clutched her arms defensively as she lowered her head in the rain. Horatio put a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry we took so long" the man said. "Been one hell of a night. Tracked down your police radio waves, and we were able to find you."

Horatio looked at the scared, shivering computer tech. "You were using the police radio?"

Emmie nodded, not really able to say much. She hung onto Horatio's arm as the rescue boat bobbed in the wind and the brown waves.

Frank stared vacantly at the hissing speaker in the computer lab, not sure what else to do at this point. Ryan leaned his head in his hands, while Calleigh simply stared at the wall.

Frank perked up when his phone chirped. "Yeah. Great!" He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "They got 'em!"

Ryan held his fist up while Calleigh smiled.

"Charlotte County General. Great. Thanks, Sergeant."

"So what happened?" Calleigh wanted to know.

Frank breathed a sigh of relief. "Rescue boat picked up them up about half an hour ago. Horatio's conscious, but he's got a head wound. They're on their way to Charlotte County General to get checked out right now."

Ryan stepped to the doorway of the computer lab and breathed a sigh of relief. Calleigh stood by him.

"See? I told you they'd make it" she teased.

He simply stared. Now he smiled for the first time in days.

"What is it?"

"Rain stopped."


	15. Reversal of Fortune

**A/N: I want to thank everyone for their kind reviews as well as for their patience. I have been appointed chapter president of my local speaking club, and I'm learning just how much responsibility there is to being in charge. I hope to get more back up more quickly.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15—Reversal of Fortune<strong>

Tyler clicked the keyboard as several documents came to life on the monitor. "Here you go. Eric Miller's emails from the last two months."

Calleigh pointed to the screen. "Open this one. Something about a payment."

_I didn't get this month's payment. Did you send it yet? Do I have to let them know? Don't tell me you can't wire it over, because you've never had a problem before._

"Where did that come from?"

Tyler typed again. A list of IP addresses popped up on the monitor. "It was sent from a terminal at the CafeComputer two weeks ago. It's a cybercafé here in Miami. Hang on a second." He typed again. "Says here it was billed to Melissa Matherson's credit card."

Calleigh nodded. "Here's another one. Sent from another terminal at the public library last week."

_Hospital bill's due, Robert. There are some people who would love to know that you're in Miami now. _

"Robert. As in Robert Creech? Wait a minute. This one's got some attachments." As Tyler clicked on the paper clip icon on the task bar, new documents popped up. "The Certificate of Name Change from Colorado."

"Hospital bill." She flipped through the brown case file. "That's gotta be this one that we found in Eric's red portfolio."

The woman put her hand on her belly again as she looked despondently at the table. "This isn't gonna take long, is it? I've gotta do the evening forecast."

Calleigh clutched the brown case file and gave her a firm look. "You're gonna be late, Miss Matherson. About five to ten years late. We scanned Eric Miller's emails." She produced two pieces of paper and laid them in front of the young meteorologist. "The library's surveillance tapes show you at the computer when this email was sent to Eric Miller's inbox. Then there's this one from the CafeComputer, tied to your credit card number." She looked at Melissa now. "Extortion and cyberstalking are felonies."

The woman shook nervously as she looked at the CSI with scared eyes. "You're joking, right?"

Calleigh never changed her expression. "Do I look like I'm laughing?"

Melissa dipped her head and began to cry as she searched for something to say.

"I think there's something you want to tell me."

Tears ran down her reddened face now. She tried to cover it with both hands. "I was protecting Eric! I swear!"

"How were you protecting him by threatening to go public with his identity?"

The woman gathered herself as she wiped her eyes with a Kleenex. "There's this guy…."

"What guy, Melissa?"

A fresh wave of tears came over the woman. "I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't believe me."

"Is somebody else involved?"

The woman nodded through her tears as she leaned her head on her hand. "I can't tell you."

"Melissa? You're a single mother. Your TV career is over. You're looking at two felony charges. Eric Miller can't help you now. I may be the only friend you have. It's time for you to start talking."

Melissa Matherson sniffed and took a deep breath. With wet, bloodshot eyes she looked out at the grayness. "When I first started working in Miami, I started getting these emails from some pervert. At first I thought they were fan emails, but then they started getting dirty. He talked about some of the things he'd like to do with me. Made me sick. Well, one of the guys in IT tracked him down for me. His name's Jerry Lynch. He's a mechanic. Two weeks ago he let me know he was gonna do something really special for me, whatever that means."

Calleigh was satisfied that the woman was telling the truth. "Why didn't you report him?"

Melissa didn't look at the CSI.

"This Jerry Lynch wasn't just a stalker, was he? Melissa, was he blackmailing you as well?"

She nodded sadly. "So is it okay to go now?"

Calleigh sniffed. "Extortion and cyberstalking, Melissa. Better make that one phone call to your boss and let him know you won't be at work today." She nodded at the uniformed officer at the doorway. "Take her."

Melissa began to cry again. "No! I swear! I swear!"

As the officer cuffed the sobbing meteorologist, Calleigh flipped open her cell phone.

"Eric? Calleigh. Check on Melissa Matherson's emails. Also we need to find out about a Jerry Lynch."

* * *

><p>Horatio looked up at the screaming bright lights over him. His freshly-sutured and bandaged head wound still hurt. His ribcage ached. His blue eyes followed the IV line from his hand all the way up to the shriveling bag. He breathed to dispel the dizziness that still plagued him. Even though the doctor told him that he had no major head injuries, he would have an MRI, just to be sure.<p>

Emmie was on the gurney right beside him in the small room. Slowly he turned his head toward her, studying the inflatable splint that the nurses had rolled over her leg earlier. Her right leg was now swollen and purple, held inside by a bubble and placed on top of two pillows. He could see pink lines on her skin where the medics had cut off her makeshift splint. Her hair had dried out, but it still stuck to her head and neck. Dead leaves clung to her neck and arms. She had fresh bruises and scratches on her arms and legs. She was breathing deeply, completely unaware of his presence.

"Emmie?"

The computer tech didn't respond.

Horatio knew it would be a long wait, so he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep again.

Horatio woke with a start when the police officer in him sensed something was wrong. Painfully he let his head roll to the right. Emmie appeared to be sleeping, breathing heavily as though having a nightmare

"Emmie? You awake?"

The computer tech tipped her head toward his voice and opened her eyes. "Oh, hi Sweetie. When did you get back?" Slowly she reached her arm out to him, stretching the IV line in her hand, enough to make the bag sway. "Kisses?"

Horatio tipped his head up at her. She smiled at him with a vacant stare. And she would never, ever, in her right mind call him "Sweetie." It sent a chill through him.

She continued to breathe heavily. "Honey? Please come here. I missed you."

Those vacant eyes. That labored breathing. Talking nonsense. He had seen this in officers and loved ones who were on the cusp of death.

He reached over and firmly put his finger on her wrist. She had a faint, rapid pulse. She tried to grasp his arm with her cold hand, but he pulled back.

"Emmie? What's my name?" he demanded in a low tone.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"What's my name?" he demanded again.

She chuckled a little. "You're Dexter Qualls. My husband. Honey, what's going on?"

Horatio didn't wait for any other answer. Slowly he rose to his feet and motioned toward the desk nurse.

"Ma'am? I need some help in here!"

The woman recognized the urgency in his voice and raced toward the door as quickly as her size would allow. "What's happening?"

The computer tech breathed hard and looked at them with that vacant smile. The woman looked more closely as she held a firm finger on her neck. "Might be fatty embolisms."

"Or something worse."

The woman threw the privacy curtain so that she and Emmie disappeared from sight. "ER Room Four! Code Alpha! ER Room Four! Code Alpha!" Within seconds he could hear voices and footsteps, while under the curtain he could see wheels that could be a crashcart. The door then slammed. On the other side he could hear urgent voices again.

"Ma'am? Emmie? Can you hear me?"

"Dilated pupils."

"What happened?" he wanted to know.

The nurse looked at him matter-of-factly. "That's a bad break she has in her leg."

"Will she be okay?" he asked in his not-to-be-argued with tone.

The woman looked at him matter-of-factly. "They're tending to her now, Sir. Now come on, you need to lie down."

Horatio tried to hide his desperation. "Please don't let her die."

"We're gonna do the best we can."


	16. The Waters Recede

**A/N: I would like to thank everyone who sent me a review. Thank you for staying with me. It looks like I'll have a little more time to finish up now.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16—The Waters Recede<strong>

Charlotte County Regional Medical Center was a small hospital, much smaller than what Horatio was used to with Miami or New York. The past week's storms had caused just as much chaos in Punta Gorda as anywhere else in south Florida. Yet this hospital seemed to stay quiet and peaceful.

Horatio felt renewed. He had spent the night with a fellow officer's family, where he'd had a shower, clean, dry clothes, and his first good meal in days. Most of his memory had returned. He now remembered the events leading up to the crash. He remembered his wet feet dangling just inches above a watery death. He remembered his head wound being stung by that cold, driving rain. He remembered the sound of Emmie wailing in despair as she clung to him, struggling with what strength she had left. And he remembered that, at the moment when she wanted to give up and let go, something deep inside him reacted.

The Lieutenant shut off his cell phone as he stepped into the quiet room and sat down next to his sleeping computer tech. As far as he knew, she had been sleeping since being brought out of surgery the night before. That leg had been properly set, removing the danger of any more fatty embolisms. She wore a nasal canula. Absentmindedly his eyes followed the IV line attached to her left arm. She had more cuts and bruises on her face and arms. She was probably full of pain killers and blood thinner right now, he thought. In contrast with the night before, she breathed more peacefully.

Most of all, Horatio knew that she had saved his life and almost died in the process. He touched her hand. "You're still a fighting Marine, Emmie. And you always will be."

For a long time, Horatio stared out the window at Punta Gorda. The rain was gone, and the waters had begun to recede. That blue sky was a welcome change, but the bright morning sun reflected off the floodwaters, nearly blinding him. He was still taking in that beautiful blue sky when he heard a rustling sound behind him.

Emmie's weathered green eyes were simply watching his every move.

Horatio smiled at her as he sat down next to her. "Well. Welcome back, Miss Stockburne. How are you feeling?" He knew Emmie was full of pain killers and blood thinner. But the worst of it was over.

"Hey, Sir. Tired" she whispered.

"Well, you and I had a busy couple of days."

She didn't answer. She merely looked into his steely blue eyes. "What's happening?"

He glanced at the window again. "The sun's out. We're in the Charlotte County hospital. You had fatty embolisms, so they had to stabilize you before they could set your leg. We weren't sure you'd last the night. I'm told you're gonna be here until the doctor's sure you're stable."

She nodded. "What about you?"

"I'm gonna stay here. You can ride back to Miami with me."

Her eyes wandered toward the sunlight. "It's gonna be Christmas soon, isn't it?"

"It is. Today's December twenty-second."

"Wouldn't you rather be back in Miami, Sir?"

He smiled. "Actually, I can celebrate Christmas here or there. Besides, I talked to your parents last night while you were in surgery. Your father wired money for me to stay here. They couldn't be here in time for Christmas, so they asked me to look after you. I told them it was the least I could do."

"What about your job?"

Horatio held up his cell phone. "I've been talking to the crime lab all morning. Stetler is on his way up here to meet with Charlotte County CSI. He has to investigate the crash."

Emmie simply looked down.

"I'm sure it'll be okay. Mr. Wolfe is coming with him. So don't worry. It's not like you and I are spending Christmas alone." He leaned forward and gathered his thoughts. "Emmie, do you remember your email?"

She was still too numb to feel embarrassed. "I hoped you'd forget about that."

"I know I got it by mistake. But did you really mean it when you said you wanted to leave?"

"I just don't know, Sir. Seems like I don't fit in here."

"Or maybe you just haven't made the move yet."

She tilted her head toward him. "Sir?"

Horatio cupped his hands together. She was alert enough to understand. "Emmie, we all know you're a great computer tech and a great team lead. I sensed that when I made the decision to hire you. You really care about that crime lab. You proved that when you helped clear Tyler of any wrongdoing. But I think that in your mind, you're still a Navy wife with the FBI. I'm not so sure you've let go of all that yet. I know you miss Dexter, just like I miss Marisol." He glanced out the window again. "The truth is, I never wanted to come to Miami either. But some things happened, and I had to come here and start all over again. Just like you did when Dexter died."

Emmie silently lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Just let yourself get used to the way the Miami-Dade Crime Lab does things. I think you'll find out Miami's not such a bad place."

Emmie simply stared at her blanketed feet. She could not look at her boss. "Do you think everybody will forgive me?"

Horatio smiled understandably. "Nobody's mad at you, Emmie. Just start accepting the Miami-Dade Crime Lab on their terms. Then I think you'll find yourself starting to fit in more easily. Besides, nobody makes coffee like you do. Keeps us going through those rough cases and those IAB investigations."

"Hi. Am I interrupting?" a familiar voice said tiredly from the doorway.

Horatio smiled. "Speaking of which. Mr. Wolfe. Glad you could make it. Come on in."

Ryan walked in and quietly laid a red shoulder bag on the floor next to the bed. "Hi, Emmie. Your folks asked us to pack you some clothes. We just got here. Stetler's at the police headquarters."

"Thanks, Ryan" she said quietly.

"Miss Stockburne had a rough night, but it looks like she's gonna be okay. How was the drive up?" Horatio wanted to know.

Ryan closed his eyes and groaned. "Four hours in a county vehicle with Stetler. That had to be the worst ride of my life. Guy doesn't stop for anything. Roads are better."

Horatio smiled as he stood up. "Mr. Wolfe, I'm going down to the county headquarters and check in. Why don't you keep Emmie company? You can check in at the hotel when you're done."

The young CSI nodded and smiled. "Sure. See you later, H."

As Horatio walked out, Ryan pulled up the chair and sat next to Emmie. She only looked into his eyes for a few minutes. Neither of them said a word.

"See? I knew you'd make it out of there" he finally told her.

Slowly and weakly Emmie reached her bruised, scratched hand out to him. He caressed her fingers.

"Thank you" she said quietly. "So you had to ride up with Rick Stetler, huh?"

Ryan groaned and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. First he insists on driving a county vehicle here, so I can't eat anything on the way. And I swear, there's something wrong with a guy who can ride in a Hummer for four hours without having to pee. I finally told him, 'Hey, could you at least pull off the road or something? I really gotta—'" He quickly censored himself. "Wait a minute! I shouldn't be telling you that!"

Despite all the drugs in her system, Emmie smiled for the first time in days. "It's okay, Ryan. I think I know how it works. I kind of needed some cheering up."

"How's that leg doing?"

She looked down at her blanketed feet. "Well, I was in surgery yesterday. Take a look."

Ryan reached over and flipped back the blue blanket. Her right leg sported white bandages from her knee to her foot, covering a plastic splint. Some blood had seeped through from the incision. "Well, looks like they fixed it. You're probably gonna be off that thing for a month or two."

Emmie watched Ryan probe her leg. "Looks like I'll be stuck here for Christmas."

"I'll be here. Sounds like Horatio's gonna stay too."

"You're staying here?"

He smiled. "Yeah. Remember when you asked if we could do something together? And I said 'When you got out of there?' Horatio approved my vacation. Christmas in Punta Gorda sounds just as good as anyplace else. Besides, who said you'd be in the hospital on Christmas Day?"

"Yeah, you're right."

"Besides, I'm here on your family's dime. Spoke to your dad a little yesterday." He smiled. "We hit it off pretty well."

Emmie just watched him. "You said you didn't get anything to eat?"

Ryan sighed. "Nope. Stetler wouldn't let me eat anything in the Hummer. I was really thinking about grabbing something from the cafeteria. How's your stomach?"

"I'm still a little nauseous, but I haven't had any real food since the accident. Maybe if they have toast or a bagel?"

He stood up with a smile. "Be right back."

"Thanks, Ryan. And definitely some coffee."


	17. Both Sides Against the Middle

**Chapter 17—Both Sides Against the Middle**

**A/N: Thanks everybody for being patient with me. Looks like I'll be able to turn my attention back to writing. I do appreciate everyone's kind comments and reviews.**

* * *

><p>Delko walked tiredly into the morgue. "Hey, Alexx. Got your text. So you confirmed that the Benadryl had something to do with Eric Miller's accident."<p>

Alexx stood at the head of the pale, sleeping meteorologist. With a gloved hand she opened his left eye. "Pupils were dilated. Although the high level of Benadryl wasn't what killed our weatherman, it was certainly a major contributor. He had cerebellar exogenic ataxia, meaning his peripheral nervous system and his judgment were impaired by something else in his system. In this case it was the Benadryl. He didn't have the rush of adrenaline before he died. That means his brain didn't sense the danger. "

Delko furrowed his eyebrows. "We looked at the car. Eric Miller applied the brake just before the crash. In fact it looks like he stepped on it three or four times."

"He might have applied the brake, but that was probably his subconscious reacting to the curve in the road. Did he ever try to use the emergency brake or move the steering wheel?"

"No. We looked at the crime scene photos and the car. It looks like he hit the brake, and then he swung the steering wheel. He didn't try to use the emergency brake or anything else. He might have been able to stop if he'd used his emergency brake or at least shut off his engine."

Alexx's ponytail bobbed side to side as she shook her head. "But his peripheral nervous system was numbed. His subconscious took over, but it wasn't enough." With a gloved hand she caressed the man's black hair. "That Benadryl really messed you up, Sweetie."

Delko nodded with a resolve. "Thanks, Alexx."

* * *

><p>Tyler looked up from the keyboard as Delko walked in. "Hey."<p>

"No priors on this Jerry Lynch, huh?"

Tyler shook his head. "Nope. Squeaky clean. Not even a parking ticket. Emmie swept most of Melissa Matherson's deleted emails."

Delko raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Emmie's working? From the hospital?"

Tyler smiled at him. "Yeah. Wolfe took the spare laptop to Punta Gorda. I talked to her about an hour ago. She's working from her hospital bed. I'm not too good with this kind of cyberforensics, so she's been sweeping from that end."

"How's she doing?"

Tyler shrugged. "Heavy on the pain killers, but she says she's bored."

Delko chuckled tiredly. "Yeah, that sounds like Emmie. What did she find?"

The main monitor came to life as Tyler clicked the mouse. "At first it looked like Melissa Matherson was telling the truth when she said this guy was stalking her. Here's one of his first emails from ten months ago. Starts off innocent."

_Dear Miss Matherson:  
>I would like to let you know that I enjoy your weather forecasting. It's nice to see a fresh face on WTVM.<em>

"But it looks like classic cyberstalking. About eight months ago his emails started to get pretty raunchy. Here's another one."

_Dear Melissa  
>I just thought I'd let you know that I loved that white dress you were wearing. I closed my eyes and imagined reaching under that tight skirt and sliding my hand all the way up those creamy thighs. I could see those red panties under your suit. <em>

Delko shook his head as he read more of the steamy email. "Yeah, this guy was watching her, and it had nothing to do with the weather."

Tyler raised his eyebrows as he clicked on another email. "It gets better. He sent this one just a few months ago."

_Hi Melissa.  
>I'd like to congratulate you on your pregnancy. But at the same time I'm very hurt. You see, for a long time I've fantasized about making a baby with you. I wanted to be the one to hold you naked in my arms and let you feel me inside you. <em>

Delko sniffed in disgust as he read on. "So when Melissa got pregnant, this guy went off the deep end. You said at first glance it looked like he was stalking her. What's that mean?"

Tyler raised his eyebrows. "I guess Melissa decided to make friends with this guy. Emmie dug this one up from two months ago."

_Dear Jerry  
>Give me a call. This is my phone number. And don't feel too bad. The guy is a real pig. I wish I never let him put his hands on me.<em>

Delko raised his eyebrows. "So he wasn't just a stalker."

Tyler clicked the mouse again. "Melissa Matherson's cell phone records. She's been calling Jerry Lynch at his work place. They talked for about half an hour here, after she sent him this email. Then they talked for about fifteen minutes at lunch time." He clicked keys again. Oh, and then there's another email. I guess she thought once she deleted these, they were gone."

_Hi Jerry  
>The bastard lied to me! Right now I'm so mad. The only reason I came to this damn swamp of a city is because he said he'd take care of me. I wish I could've stayed in Houston. Said he'd give me a job and everything. I hate it. I hate Miami. Nobody talks to me here.<br>I don't have the money yet. Looks like I'm on my own. He came out and told me he wasn't going to leave her. I told him he promised me, but then he just laughed at me. He called me a stupid little tart. I reminded him that we had a baby together. He said it probably wasn't his.  
>I promise, I'll pay you when I get the money, okay?<em>

"So I guess they got to be good friends" Delko noted.

"Then there was this one."

_My dearest Melissa  
>The bastard's not gonna get away with what he did to you. He tried to hurt you twice. First it was your brother, and now you. I guess because he got off on that murder charge he thinks he's bulletproof.<br>Come on over for dinner tonight. I've been having dreams about you again.  
>I'll take care of him. He'll never hurt you or anybody else ever again. I promise.<br>If you stay with me, you'll never be lonely again. I'll take care of you and be a good father to your baby._

Delko furrowed his eyebrows. "When was this one?"

"Two weeks ago. You're not gonna believe where this guy works."

"Try me."

Tyler clicked the mouse again.

Delko smirked. "The Giant Genie Pharmacy. Doesn't Eric Miller get his Allegra there?"

"So does Melissa Matherson."

* * *

><p>Calleigh's green eyes glanced between the brown case file and the short, brown-haired woman in the orange Miami-Dade jumpsuit.<p>

"You lied to us, Melissa" she said firmly. "You never told us you and Jerry Lynch were close."

"I didn't lie to you about a thing" she insisted quietly. She knew that the tears wouldn't work this time. "He's crazy! He was stalking me!"

Calleigh slid pieces of paper in front of the woman. She glanced down at them. "What's that?"

"We retrieved your emails from the databanks at WTVM. Those are emails that you and Jerry Lynch sent back and forth. And these are your cell phone records. You called Jerry Lynch and spoke to him on the dates I highlighted. So about the time Eric Miller stopped paying you, you decided to make friends with your stalker."

Melissa dipped her head and looked at the CSI. "Where did you get those?"

Calleigh never changed her expression. "Cyberforensics. We have a trained expert who can retrieve emails that were deleted up to fifteen years ago. Now at the moment you're being charged with extortion. If you don't want to be charged with murder and conspiracy, I suggest you start talking. You might get out in time to see your baby in elementary school."

Melissa looked down numbly. "I guess you could say Robert Creech—"

"Eric Miller" Calleigh corrected.

"Yeah. Was leading a double life. He moved me to Houston. When we found out I was pregnant, he swore he was gonna leave his wife." She turned and sniffed. "God, what a liar. So here I was in Miami with no family and no friends. In a fit of stupidity I tracked down Jerry Lynch. We talked. He said he'd dug up some dirt on Eric."

"Does this have anything to do with a Mark Matherson who died in Colorado?"

She closed her eyes painfully. "Look, I know what you're talking about. That was my brother. Jerry Lynch thought Eric Miller was the same Robert Creech who was acquitted in that lawsuit."

"Melissa, Jerry Lynch said in one of his emails to you that he'd take care of him. Was he talking about Eric Miller?"

"Yeah. I tried to tell him he was making a mistake. That was the wrong guy. He didn't believe me."

"You said in another one of your emails that you didn't have the money yet. Care to explain?"

Melissa averted her eyes now.

"Melissa? Why were you paying Jerry Lynch?"

She dipped her eyes now. She had come to a dead end. "I want an attorney now."


	18. Battered, Muddy, and Forever Silent

**Chapter 18—Battered, Muddy, and Forever Silent**

Horatio stared intently as he cradled his bandaged head with one hand. At times he still had to sit down while regaining his equilibrium, but for the most part, he could function normally now. He watched from a distance while the local forensics crew prepared to work on what was left of his battered, waterlogged Hummer.

His footsteps echoed on the concrete floor as he studied the brown, wet, dripping, mud-soaked wreck from the required distance. Swampy water still dripped out of the doors and ran across the concrete floor to the drain. The undercarriage had buckled in the center. Both headlights were smashed. Leaves, twigs, and other debris stuck to the scratched sides or had wrapped around the black grill. More twigs and leaves peeked out of the mud-soaked wheel wells. Windows that had not broken were now brown with a muddy film. Through the open rear hatch he could see the silt that had settled on the seats and the rear area. From where he stood, it was a miracle that he and Emmie hadn't been injured worse. That Hummer that he once drove so proudly now sat battered, muddy, and forever silent.

Forever silent. Like he and Emmie might have been. He just stared now as he fingered his sunglasses.

"Horatio."

He held his head as he turned toward the familiar voice behind him. "Rick. Nice of you to drive all the way out here to check on us."

"How's your head?" the IAB agent asked rhetorically.

He touched the bandaged scar. "Better."

IAB agent Rick Stetler stood with hands in pockets, that badge showing. His brown eyes scanned the dripping, muddy wreck as he paced over to the Lieutenant. "Yeah, well, they sent me here to find out what happened. They lost nearly half a million dollars in equipment because of that wreck."

Horatio now leveled his eyes at his nemesis. "So it's all about the money again, is it, Rick? You're aware that Emmie and I nearly died in that crash? And with all that high-tech equipment, why did it take almost a day to find us?"

Rick closed his eyes and put one hand up. "Look, I'm doing a joint investigation with Charlotte County now. I'll let Miami-Dade know my findings." He dipped his head now. "I understand Emmie was driving when you crashed?"

"She was. She's authorized to drive my vehicle."

"I know that. But why was she driving?"

"Time management. I felt it would be better for her to drive while I was on the phone with the lab over the Miller case. The weather was rough, but she's driven under all kinds of conditions, Rick."

He was unfazed. "I'm sure she has. But I saw the photos of the crash site myself. It's possible she might have been driving too fast for the conditions."

Horatio could feel his blood pressure rising. "They're still combing that area, Rick. That flash flood scattered a lot of evidence. It's gonna be days before they sort out everything."

The IAB agent lowered his head and pointed toward the doors. "I'm not on a personal witch hunt, Horatio! They're breathing down my neck to find out why we lost all that equipment and had to put in those man hours to track you down in the middle of a weather emergency. Not to mention sending me out here for a joint investigation and towing the Hummer back to Miami. That was a secluded stretch of road. Just what were the two of you doing out there?"

"We were on a detour, and Emmie missed her turn. The County didn't think it was necessary to put a navigation system in my vehicle. And now they want to crucify her. Is that it, Rick?"

"You know I'm just doing my job." He glanced at Horatio's waist. "What happened to your firearm?"

"Emmie took it off me for protection. I was unconscious and couldn't really do anything with it. Why don't you ask her?"

Rick raised his eyebrows. "You know as well as I do, Emmie's on pain killers. She's not coherent enough to answer any of my questions."

"She's coherent enough to work on the Miller case."

Rick furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"Mr. Wolfe brought the lab's other laptop up to her room. She's working with Tyler from her hospital bed. And Rick, when you go tearing into her, keep in mind that we almost didn't survive last night."

Rick huffed. "Yeah, I know all about her leg. But you're saying she's okay now?"

"No, that's not what I said. I said she's coherent enough to work on the Miller case. I'd be careful about making her a scapegoat. She has contacts at the state and Federal level, and they have their ways of getting even."

"I'm keenly aware of that" he retorted. "But I'm not so sure those contacts are gonna help her if she was grossly negligent."

The Lieutenant held his bandaged head and shot him another glare as he turned to leave. "I'm going to go sit down for a while. But there's just one more thing. Emmie might not appreciate you grilling her so soon. It might ruin your chances with her."

Rick's resentful brown eyes followed his nemesis as he walked out the door.

* * *

><p>Emmie tilted her head tiredly toward Ryan while she balanced the laptop on her good leg. "Thanks for setting me up with this thing."<p>

The young CSI shrugged as he smiled. "Yeah, well, Tyler said you were getting bored."

"You know I was able to help work on the Miller case for a little while? Tyler's cyberforensics is limited."

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "That's great. So the drugs aren't messing you up?"

"Maybe just a little. Stinks that I'm gonna be off this leg for a couple of months. She glanced down at her bandaged, braced left leg. "Ends up they put pins and screws in there. Thanks for coming."

He nodded. "Yeah. Glad to do it. Horatio kind of called in some favors so I could be here. If you want to know, I'm actually on a working vacation. Poor Delko's wiped out."

Emmie simply looked into his brown eyes. Ryan finally looked down.

"They got the Parade of Lights at the Harbor on Christmas Eve" he finally said. "Maybe if you're up to it."

"I don't know if I'm even gonna be able to stand up by then. But yeah, I'd love that."

Both Ryan and Emmie glanced up when they heard a tap on the door.

Rick Stetler strode in. "Wolfe, aren't you supposed to be helping in the Miller case?" he said, his eyebrows raised. "That was a condition for me bringing you out here."

Ryan smirked. "I'm working on the Miller case with Emmie right now, Sergeant Stetler" he said coldly as he stood up.

"Well, take a break. I need to speak with Emmie for a few minutes. Alone. So close the door on your way out."

Rick quietly sat in the armchair next to the brown-haired computer tech. He studied her—the vacant eyes, the nasal canula, the IV line in her right arm, her bandaged, braced leg. His job would be tougher than normal. The IAB agent was used to playing politics, but this time he would really have to walk a fine line. It wasn't just Emmie's family. He hadn't forgotten that night at the Silver Palm when he held her close and savored her perfume as they slow danced. He could still feel that chestnut hair tickling his face in the ocean breeze.

"What can I do for you, Sir?" she asked quietly, tilting her head to look at him.

Rick had heard the 911 calls between Dade, Charlotte, and DeSoto Counties. Tyler had also recorded Emmie's distress calls from the wrecked Hummer. The sound of her tired, scared, pain-wracked voice had affected him on a deeper level.

"How are you feeling this morning?" was all he could say at that moment.

"Tired" she nearly whispered, her eyes numbly fixed on him.

"I heard you're helping Tyler on the Miller case. That's good."

"Thanks."

He nodded. "You're welcome. How's your leg?"

"They put pins in it last night. The fatty embolisms stopped."

He pursed his lips. "I heard. Glad you're feeling better." He fidgeted now under her almost robotic stare.

"Are you here about the wreck? Is that why you asked Ryan to close the door?"

He gathered his thoughts and sighed. That perfume, that chestnut hair, that smart pink dress suit, those political ties….

"I'm gonna need you to tell me what happened, Emmie."

"I'm very tired right now, Sir. I have to sleep." She shut off the silver laptop and closed it.

He quickly stood up and put his hand out. "Here. Let me take that for you."

"Actually, Sir, could you please send Ryan back in? I asked him to take care of my stuff." With both arms she hugged the old silver laptop.

"I'll make sure he gets it" Rick persisted, his palm still out to her.

Emmie closed her eyes painfully and held the laptop more tightly. "Please let me give it to Ryan, Sir."

Rick pursed his lips and huffed as he turned to go. "We'll talk later."


	19. Candid Camera

**Chapter 19—Candid Camera**

**A/N: Thanks everybody for your patience. I've actually got a lull, so I might just finish this out in the next two days and start up the next story.**

* * *

><p>"Been a few years since I've done a sweep like this" Tyler said as he plugged in the black sweeping drive and clicked keys. Within minutes the lab's main monitor came to life with Jerry Lynch's emails. Calleigh stood transfixed behind him.<p>

"Okay, start checking for emails to Melissa Matherson and WTVM within the last year. Cross-reference anything that might have to do with Eric Miller or Robert Creech."

Tyler clicked keys for several minutes. He then sat back and shook his head. "Same as Melissa's emails. Nothing really different here."

Calleigh pursed her lips and shook her head in frustration. "We can't tie Jerry Lynch or Melissa Matherson to Eric Miller's murder with what little evidence we have. On top of that we still can't figure out tampered with Angela Miller's car."

Delko poked his head into the computer lab. "Cal. Got a visitor. Two visitors, actually."

She sighed deeply. "Not now, Eric."

"I think you're gonna want to talk to this guy."

"Didn't you just say two visitors?"

Delko looked at her with his boyish grin. "Well, I think only one of them can actually talk to you."

A smile crossed Calleigh's face as she stepped out into the reception area. "Al Coleman? Hi there. I see you have company today."

The tall, blonde-haired meteorologist wore a gray pinstripe suit with a white towel draped over his left shoulder. He stood and was gently bobbing his baby daughter, whispering to her. He turned his head when Calleigh approached.

"Calleigh DuQuesne? Nice to meet you. Like to say hi to somebody special?" Gently he turned so that his daughter's curious little blue eyes met Calleigh. "This is my little girl Patricia. She's almost a month old. I think she's fascinated by your hair."

Calleigh's frustration dissolved in an instant. She smiled up to the curious little face that was covered by a colorful baby blanket. "Well, hi Patricia" she purred, reaching up and touching the little girl's tiny pink hand. She cooed contentedly while it rested on Calleigh's finger. "So they're letting you spend time with your daughter?"

Still holding Patricia, Al sat down on the couch carefully. "Well, yes and no."

She looked at him more seriously. "What do you mean by 'yes and no'?"

"Since Eric's death and Melissa's arrest, I'm the last meteorologist at WTVM. Like I told you, we're family over there. So instead of burning me out, Management told me to just take Christmas week off while they sort everything out. Some meteorologists from our sister stations around Florida are filling in while I'm off and we get some replacements. But there was something else." He reached down into the pink vinyl diaper bag and pulled out a black cassette. "See, I didn't just go down to the station to show off Patricia. It's amazing what you can smuggle in and out of a media room in a diaper bag while everybody's looking at a cute little baby."

Calleigh's eyes darted between him and the black cassette tape. "What's that?"

"The station has been doing an investigative report about car repair rip-off s in the area. Did you hear about it?"

"No."

"Well, we haven't aired it yet. One of the cars we used as bait was Angela Miller's Chevy Lumina. When we picked Angela's car for the report, we had it checked over, and there were no problems. So an autoshop professor at South Florida crossed some wires here and there, and we took it in to different garages to see which ones were legit and which ones were doing fake repairs and then charging big bucks. There should be a hidden camera in the insulation under the hood. Did anybody find it?"

"I don't think so."

It might still be there. Between the storm and the crash, our media guys never got a chance to take it out of there, and apparently the loop just kept running."

Calleigh closed her eyes and sighed as Al placed the cassettes in her hand. "We really owe you, Mr. Coleman. But why are you just coming to us with it now?"

"We were going to air it this week, but I guess you could say we got sidetracked. And then when I had a chance to catch my breath, I remembered." He looked at her sadly as his voice sank to a whisper. "And hey, I know Eric made some mistakes, but he was like an uncle to us. If you can find out who killed him, that'll be reward enough for me."

"This is gonna help more than you realize" she assured him. She waved a finger at little Patricia's curious blue eyes. The baby smiled. "Now why don't you go spend some time with your family?"

He chuckled tiredly. "I sure will. Mom's at home taking a nap, but we're gonna go wake her up and get some lunch. Please let me know the minute you find out anything." Balancing his daughter on his waist, he picked up the diaper bag and left.

Delko waited outside the door. "What's he got?"

The blonde CSI smiled up at him. "Did you guys find a hidden camera in the hood of that Lumina?"

He looked at her dumfounded. "No. Why?"

"Might want to take another look. Al Coleman tells me they put a hidden camera in the insulation of the hood. They were doing an investigation to catch repair rip-offs. He thinks this tape might have evidence."

Delko smiled. "Great. Yeah, I'll go take another look."

"I'm gonna get this over to Tyler so we can analyze it." She smiled back in the direction of the reception area. "What a cute baby."

He looked at her with that boyish grin. "Yeah. Saw you playing with her. Get you thinking about things?"

Calleigh leveled her eyes at him. "I'll see you later, Eric."

Tyler clicked the mouse, bringing the main monitor to life with the gray surveillance tape. "Okay. Looks like about a five-day loop in each one of these cassettes. No sound."

"That's okay" Calleigh reassured him. "This just might be enough."

"Here's that Monday when Patrick Casey worked on it." He watched the gray picture frame by frame while the man he recognized as Patrick Casey did a lube and oil change. "Now it looks like he's doing a tire rotation."

"Nothing unusual. Still seems strange that he'd do a tire rotation that soon, though. Keep going."

Tyler then fast-forwarded through the blackened footage to Thursday.

"Thursday. That was the day the turn signals got fixed. Hood's up."

A face came into the camera's view. He looked around the engine while his hands propped up the hood.

"Freeze that."

Tyler clicked the mouse.

"Who's that talking to the guy? Zoom in on him."

The A/V tech clicked more keys. "Those guys couldn't have known they were being videotaped. I can run it on the recognition software while we're watching this. Sometimes I'll get a hit in seconds, sometimes hours."

"Freeze right there. What did he just put in the guy's hands?"

Tyler zoomed in. "Folded piece of paper. Got some writing on it." He adjusted the picture to bring the handwriting in more clearly. "Looks like it says 'twenty OC's.'"

Calleigh furrowed her eyebrows. "Twenty OC's? Oxycontin? Okay. Start up again."

Calleigh watched closely as the young mechanic continued to work. "Freeze right there." She watched as the same pair of hands pulled off the cover to the brake fluid. "Zoom in on his hands."

Tyler boxed the corner of the frame and brought it up closer. "Right here. He just dropped something into the brake fluid."

"Yep. Straight pins. Those are our murder weapons."

The recognition software suddenly popped up on the side monitor. Tyler glanced at it. "Got a hit on the guy who gave him the piece of paper. DEA clearance. Guy's name is Gerard Lynch. Student pharmacist at the Giant Genie Pharmacy."

* * *

><p>Frank Tripp stormed through the white door of the pharmacy lab, followed by a uniformed officer. The labcoated pharmacist and the young, bespectacled assistant stiffened up.<p>

"Can I help you?" the pharmacist demanded. The store manager put his hand up for silence.

"Miami-Dade PD! Jerry Lynch, you're under arrest for trafficking of a controlled substance and conspiracy for the murder of Eric Miller!"

The young, thin assistant shook his head. "What the hell!"

Frank stood sternly and watched the uniformed officer snap handcuffs on him. "Come on, Doogie Howser! We got you on surveillance! Get him out of here." He immediately handed the manager a folded piece of paper. "We got a warrant to search your computers."

The pharmacist furrowed his eyebrows. "We're kind of busy" he said weakly.

"Pharmacy's closed, Doc. You're gonna have to step out. And when you get back, you might want to take an inventory of your pills!"


	20. Home For the Holidays

**Chapter 20—Home For the Holidays**

"Careful" Ryan warned as he walked slowly alongside Emmie, his arm behind her back. "Just take your time."

Emmie was nearly out of breath as she propelled herself along on her new aluminum crutches. She wore an old black United States Navy tee shirt and long, loose workout pants. She wore a sock over her bandaged leg to keep it as clean as possible. What bothered her most was, despite her rigorous workouts, she now seemed to get worn down quickly while doing simple things.

Finally she stopped and held both crutches in one hand as she leaned tiredly against the wooden railing, catching her breath, holding up her bandaged leg. "I hate these things" she moaned almost helplessly. "They're killing my arms."

"Just like anything else, Emmie. You have to get used to them. You can't push yourself so hard."

"We're gonna miss it" she protested.

He leveled his eyes at her. "So what? You just got out of the hospital. You've already had one accident in the last week. You don't need another."

While Ryan stood next to her patiently, she simply leaned back against the wooden railing and breathed deeply, taking in that cool, fragrant ocean breeze while she rested her sore arms on her crutches. She closed her eyes and listened to the hissing of the breeze blowing through the sawgrass under the boardwalk. The cold rains that had plagued South Florida for a week seemed to be a distant memory now as the reflection of the half moon shimmered off the bay. Much as she hated to admit it, she was glad to be on the pain killers right now. Images of dirty brown water swallowing up the Hummer occasionally flashed through her mind. She remembered the vulnerability she felt as the alligator-infested waters rose up around her safe haven. That rain angrily pounding the windows. That _drip, drip, drip_ of the water leaking in through the broken driver's side window. That helplessness when her only food source was a survival kit that she had discovered by accident. The brown, muddy river just inches below her feet as she held on for dear life and watched the Hummer sink to a watery death.

She looked helplessly toward the crowd that had gathered at the pier. The pain killers were a good thing right now.

Ryan watched her. "You gonna be all right?"

Emmie looked at him and nodded. "Yeah. You know, it's strange. When I was in Saudi Arabia, the barracks down the block from us took a Scud missile. Some reservists died. I still remember it like it was yesterday. I don't remember feeling like this, though."

"Like what?"

She shook her head. "I was only nineteen, but for the first time in my life, it occurred to me that I wasn't immortal. But now, well, out there, stranded in that Hummer with a broken leg, trying to keep Horatio alive. I can't describe it. I never felt so helpless. Maybe because when I was in the Gulf, I expected it to be dangerous. But not riding home from a conference." Emmie closed her eyes painfully. She wanted to cry, but the pain killers forbade it.

Ryan had his hands in his pockets as he watched her. "I think I understand. You gonna be okay? I can take you home."

"I'm really tired. I'm sorry, Ryan. I know you went through a lot of trouble."

Ryan took her elbow and guided her gently in the other direction. "No trouble at all. Take your time."

Emmie sat at her computer table with her broken leg propped up on the metal chair. Ryan sat behind her as she brought her computer to life. "Thanks for doing all this."

He smiled. "Thanks for putting me up in your guest room."

She shrugged. "Well, things have been a little strange, to say the least. This leg is gonna take some getting used to."

He stood up suddenly. "That reminds me. You take your pills yet?"

"Not yet."

"Well here. Let's see." He stepped over to her coffee table and sorted through the brown bottles. "Okay. This is the one you're supposed to take an hour before bedtime." He sniffed. "Darvicet, huh? This'll put a smile on your face."

"Hey, it's starting!"

Ryan handed her some pills and a cup of water as he sat down behind her and watched the black monitor. Boats decorated in white, red, blue, and green Christmas lights sailed past the webcam one by one. Some of them played Christmas carols. Emmie reached forward and turned up her speakers so that she and Ryan could hear a mix of Christmas carols, crowds cheering, and the gentle waves breaking. Emmie hugged her crutches and smiled, transfixed on the monitor. A cabin cruiser sported a Christmas star and red and green Christmas lights while blaring "Hark the Herald Angels Sing!"

"That's beautiful."

Ryan smiled. "Yeah."

Neither one of them said a word as sailboats, cabin cruisers, and luxury yachts sailed past the webcam one by one, blaring Christmas carols and showing off their decorations.

Finally the last boat glided silently past the webcam. She clicked off her monitor. "That was nice, wasn't it?"

Ryan never took his eyes off the darkened screen. "Yeah."

"Sorry I couldn't stay out there" she said ruefully, never taking her eyes off the screen.

"Hey, that's okay. Nobody thought you'd get out of the hospital this fast, but the doctor said you were well enough to make the trip back, and I figured you wanted to be in your own bed on Christmas Eve."

"Yeah." She yawned and looked around her living room sleepily now. "It's really good to be back. I wish I knew how to thank you."

"By letting yourself heal. Well I think I'd better put you to bed. You've had a busy day."

"Yeah, you're right." She balanced herself as she stood up on her crutches. "I'm just gonna change really fast." Slowly she propelled herself past Ryan and closed her bedroom door. She was determined to do as much as possible without any help, especially since Ryan was just a friendly co-worker.

Ryan watched the closed bedroom door until she came out wearing a long tee shirt and loose shorts, propelling herself on her crutches. He stood up.

"Hold on. I'll come tuck you in" he said with a grin. She giggled as she turned and hobbled back to her full-size bed. From the other side he pulled back her burgundy bedspread. "Can you get in by yourself?"

"Uh huh." Slowly and painfully she pushed herself backward into her bed and let him flip the bedspread back over her. "Who knows? Maybe next year we can see that thing live?"

The young CSI nodded with a smile as he tucked the bedspread over her shoulder. "I think that'd be great."

She smiled back at him as she carefully lay on her side. "Night Ryan."

He stepped out and turned off her light. "I'll come get you in the morning."

* * *

><p>Calleigh stepped in and scanned the bar. She didn't see him this time. "Hey, Dana. Where is he?"<p>

The brown-haired lady behind the bar pointed discreetly with her thumb while giving Calleigh a knowing smile.

"Thanks."

Kenwall DuQuesne sat by himself at the end of the bar and merely stared at the empty glass in front of him. He wasn't singing along with the Christmas carol that wafted through the bar. He wasn't bragging about his favorite little girl at CSI. Even thought it was Christmas Eve, he had nothing to celebrate. There was no happiness. He'd really blown it this time, and he knew it.

Calleigh stood quietly behind her father, like she had so many times before. "Hey, Dad."

He never looked at her. Just kept his eyes on the empty bar glass in front of him. "Hey, Lambchop."

"This how you're gonna spend Christmas Eve?"

"Yep. I reckon this is as much fun as anything" he muttered to the bar.

Calleigh lowered her eyes. "It true what they said?"

"Yep."

Calleigh did her best to keep an upbeat mood. "We'll talk about it later, Dad. I'll take you home."

Slowly Duke turned on the bar stool toward his pretty little girl. "Don't know how I'm gonna tell your mama, Lambchop."

"We'll figure it out, Dad. We always do, don't we?"

He held his straw fedora with one hand and hooked his white jacketed arm under his daughter's elbow. "Yeah, I suppose. Too bad. I really loved that place."

Silently Calleigh escorted her wobbly father out across the lighted city street. In his condition he did his best to heel-toe and keep up with her as she walked to the Hummer parked across the street.

"So we gonna see you tomorrow morning?" he asked ruefully.

"Sure, Dad. But right now I've got to finish some things up at work."

Duke DuQuesne looked at his daughter with his tired blue eyes. "Maybe it's just as well they let me go. Maybe I'll get to see you and your mama more. Least for a while."

The CSI had been down this road many times. Behind that drunkenness was a sadness and helplessness that she had come to recognize. "You'll see me in the morning, Dad" she promised as he stepped up into the passenger seat. "Right now let's just get you home."


	21. The Accused

**Chapter 21—The Accused**

The young, thin, brown-haired man looked unapologetic as he sat at the interrogation table. Ryan glanced at the case file and then studied him. Ryan then tipped his head up at him inquisitively.

"Jerry Lynch. You're a student pharmacist, right?"

The defensiveness now became a simple shrug. "Yeah. Why?"

"According to your DEA license, you're only supposed to be dispensing drugs, not killing people with them, and not passing them out to people who do your dirty work for you. How's the Hippocratic Oath go again?" Mockingly he glanced at the ceiling as though thinking hard. "Oh yeah. 'First, do no harm'?"

Jerry dipped his head. "I did what I had to do. Don't tell me you never broke the law as a cop."

Ryan sniffed. This guy couldn't possibly have known about his gambling incident. But he never wavered. "I never used my own perverted sense of justice to commit murder, Jerry. Is that why you had to lace Eric Miller's Allegra with Benadryl? Something you knew he was allergic to? And that's why you gave ten Darvocet pills to Vic Odom to fix Angela Miller's car?"

The bespectacled pharmacy student looked at him silently.

Ryan shrugged as he plopped down the brown case file. "Jerry, right now you're looking t Murder One, conspiracy, and two counts of distributing. Even if you didn't do any prison time, you're never gonna pay back your student loans, because for the rest of your life, you're gonna be flipping burgers in a truck stop somewhere. So you might as well just tell me why."

He looked more distantly now. "It's for Melissa."

"Melissa Matherson?"

"She was helping me. I was helping her" he insisted, folding his arms and glaring at Ryan. "I was the only friend she had after that sick bastard dumped her. He got her pregnant and then just left her there! She came to me! She's a nice lady! Why would anybody do that to her?"

"What sick bastard are you talking about?" Ryan demanded.

"Robert Creech. The guy who killed her brother in Colorado. She was seeing the guy, and she had no idea who he was! Can you believe that? I had to let her know, man. And then she didn't believe me!"

Ryan shook his head. "That meteorologist didn't kill her brother, Jerry."

"Bull! I did the research."

"I know the Robert Creech you're talking about. This is a different one." He took out two more pieces of paper and laid them on top of the bank records. "This Robert Creech was a disc jockey in Gunnison, Colorado. And this is the Robert Creech who worked at Creech Pharmaceuticals. Two different guys. They had the same name and they both lived in Colorado. The guy you helped to murder changed his name to Eric Miller. The guy who worked for Creech Pharmaceuticals died of lung cancer five years ago."

Jerry Lynch's eyes widened. "No way. Melissa told me—" he started to protest.

"Uh, Jerry, we also checked your back-and-forth emails. Melissa didn't tell you anything. You told her you found some dirt on Eric Miller. And you told her you were gonna make sure he paid for what he did. That's when she broke all contact with you. Eric Miller was a bit of a dirtball, but he didn't kill anybody."

His eyes darted between Ryan and the wall now.

Ryan gave him a hard look. "You killed an innocent man, Jerry."

Reality was beginning to hit the young pharmacy tech. He simply stared at the table in shock.

"By the way, maybe you loved Melissa, but she didn't love you. She used you. She knew how to play you, man. But it looks like you'll be okay where you're going. You seem to be pretty good with the laws of the jungle." He glanced at the uniformed officer who stood at the door. "Take him."

* * *

><p>Horatio paced opposite the brown-haired, scruffy-bearded man who hunched over the table and grasped the edge, obviously in some pain. He sweated and trembled, trying to maintain himself.<p>

"Mr. Odom. You okay? Are you in some pain?"

"I'm fine" he answered in a strained voice. "It's just my back."

"Did you already run out of the pain killers Jerry Lynch gave you?"

"Who?"

The Lieutenant sat down and pushed a photo in front of the man. "The pharmacy tech who gave you ten Darvocet pills just before you worked on Angela Miller's car, Mr. Odom! You disabled the brakes and the air bags. That's Murder One and Conspiracy, not to mention the drug charges!"

"Look, he only gave me that stuff once!" he said between breaths.

Horatio remained unfazed. "We checked every pharmacy where Jerry Lynch has worked. They all show doctored DEA inventory records! We have you on surveillance! Try again!"

Pain and withdrawal were getting the better of Vic Odom now. He trembled as he gripped the edge of the table more tightly. "Okay, okay. I hurt my back, and the doctor put me on narcotics. I went back begging for more, but he cut me off. I had to get the stuff somewhere."

"Did Jerry Lynch tell you to sabotage Angela Miller's car?"

The man took a deep breath. Anything to stop this agony. "First he said he'd give me a thousand bucks, but he said he didn't have the money. So he gave me those pills. Something about his girlfriend's trust fund got cut off. He told me this lady was standing in the way of his girlfriend's trust fund, and when she died, his girlfriend would get the money again." He took a breath to try to dispel the pain. "He just told me to do something with the car so it'd look like an accident. I said 'yeah, fine.' He told me when the lady died, there'd be another hundred thousand for me." Perspiration dripped down his forehead. "I don't know why I believed him. I mean, who'd have that kind of money and drive a crappy old car like that? But I needed the pills, so I said I'd do it."

"What lady, Mr. Odom?" Horatio demanded.

Vic Odom took deep breaths again in an effort to dispel the pain. "I think her name was Angela Miller. Look man, can I get something? This pain's driving me crazy!"

Horatio leveled eyes with him. "Don't worry, Mr. Odom. We're gonna help you with your addiction once and for all. There's a good rehab program in the County lockup. You're gonna be there for a long time, so I suggest you take advantage of it." He snapped the folder shut as the uniformed officer handcuffed the sweaty, trembling man.

* * *

><p>As Horatio strode down the blue hallway, a tall, sturdy, well-dressed man with salt and pepper hair stood up and stood directly in front of him. The man wore a white dress shirt, Dockers, and gold-rimmed glasses. With determined eyes, the man faced Horatio.<p>

"Are you Horatio Caine?" he nearly demanded.

He faced the stranger guardedly. "I am. Can I help you?"

Mindful of his professional manners, the man shook hands with Horatio. "My name is Frank Stockburne. I'm Emmie Stockburne's father. I understand you're her supervisor." He then thrust a piece of paper at Horatio. "What's going on here?"

Horatio glanced at the man before reading the piece of paper. "I see. So Emmie told you about the IAB investigation?"

Frank Stockburne leaned toward Horatio, determined to make his point. "I don't know anything about an IAB investigation. I understand she saved somebody's life out there, and now they want to punish her for it?" He raised his voice with a determination. "My daughter is not a criminal, Officer Caine! What the hell kind of a department is this?"

He dipped his head and put one hand up to the angry father. "Actually, Mr. Stockburne, it was my life your daughter saved. We lost a police vehicle, a firearm, and some computer equipment in the accident. The investigation is standard procedure."

The man wasn't convinced. "I don't like it! My daughter's been through hell and back. You should be thanking her!"

Horatio's weathered blue eyes met the man's angry brown eyes. "Actually, Mr. Stockburne, I am in the process of putting her in for a special citation. Your daughter's a hero."

"I'll believe it when I see it! My daughter's laid up at the house with pins in her leg. What happened out there was not her fault!" He snarled as he pointed to the ceiling. "If anything happens to her, I swear I'm gonna bring down the roof of this whole damned department!"

Horatio raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, locking eyes with the man. He could understand the outrage of an angry, protective father. "Mr. Stockburne, that's not gonna happen. Do you understand me? That's not gonna happen."

During his years as a CEO, Frank Stockburne had learned how to read people. There was something about Lieutenant Caine. He breathed deeply and softened his expression. The anger slowly faded away, and a quiet desperation showed in his eyes. He wanted to believe him. "Officer Caine, I'm not gonna stand here and watch my daughter go through that a second time" he insisted.

Horatio nodded at the father with a determination. "And you're not going to, Mr. Stockburne. Your daughter looked out for me. Now I'm going to return the favor."


	22. The Right Stuff

**Chapter 22—The Right Stuff**

Duke DuQuesne walked into the glaring white room and placed his paperwork on the table. Putting aside the events of Christmas Eve, he sat down and faced Rick Stetler as well as the gray-haired, steely-eyed arbiter. He would be the seasoned trial lawyer he always was. He knew what was riding on this.

Rick Stetler leaned forward on the table, cupping his hands. "Mr. DuQuesne, who are you representing?"

Duke tipped his head up and raised his eyebrows. "Sergeant Stetler, I'm representing the interests of your defendant, Emmalyn Stockburne."

Rick eyed him warily as he glanced down at the papers in front of him. "Mr. DuQuesne, I personally conducted the investigation. Although much of the physical evidence is missing from the crash scene in Charlotte County, my findings lead me to believe that Miss Stockburne may have been driving at a high rate of speed for the conditions when she went off the road, thus causing three hundred and fifty-thousand dollars in damage to Dade County property and the loss of Lieutenant Caine's firearm."

The white-suited lawyer flipped through his pages. "And Sergeant Stetler, I intend to prove that not only did Miss Stockburne take every reasonable precaution to avoid that accident, but that she acted in the interests of the County as well as Lieutenant Caine. I also intend to prove that evidence is insufficient and that you actually railroaded Miss Stockburne."

The IAB agent knew he couldn't flinch. "Please demonstrate."

The arbiter's weathered brown eyes darted between the wary IAB agent and the attorney.

"Sergeant Stetler, why don't you begin with how you arrived at the conclusion that Miss Stockburne _may have been_ responsible for the crash, as you so eloquently stated?"

Rick breathed deeply. "In a sworn statement at the Charlotte County Hospital, Emmie Stockburne stated that she had swerved sharply to avoid what she thought were three dead alligators on a remote two-late road." He handed the arbiter a photo. "Charlotte County CSI took a photo of the crash scene. Here you will see the tire marks of Lieutenant Caine's Hummer, but no dead alligators."

The gray-haired, bespectacled man studied the black and white photo carefully. He then glanced up. "Mr. DuQuesne? You have a rebuttal?"

Duke smiled slightly. "Well, Sir, according to the National Weather Service, the floodwaters rose to about seven feet on the morning of December 21st. The waters rose with enough strength to carry the police vehicle nearly fifty feet, so it stands to reason they could wash away three dead alligators. The Charlotte County CSI's did a great job, and they claimed to have found two dead alligators that simply died. How do we know those weren't the alligators that caused Miss Stockburne to swerve off the road? I want to direct your attention to those tire marks. Charlotte County CSI's confirmed that the Hummer was traveling at fifty miles an hour, which is within the legal speed limit for that road in the state of Florida. You'll then notice that the tire marks swerve sharply to the left, indicating a panic stop."

"Miss Stockburne was driving fast for the conditions" Rick insisted, his hands folded on the table.

"Sergeant, just how fast _should_ she have been driving? Can you recommend a posted speed limit for the heavy rain Charlotte County had that day?" He then glanced at the dumbfounded faces. "Nobody can tell Miss Stockburne how fast she _should have been driving_. Under the conditions, she was driving in a 'reasonable and prudent manner' to avoid an accident. And if you'll take a look, Sir, you'll notice that the road comes into a blind curve. There's also vegetation that blocks line-of-sight distance."

"She should have slowed down in that curve" Rick argued. "Those tire marks show that she swerved suddenly as though she didn't anticipate anything."

Kenwall DuQuesne was unfazed as his weathered blue eyes met Rick's brown eyes. "Sergeant, there's no evidence as to whether she slowed down, sped up, or kept the same pace, is there?"

"Well, nobody can really be sure..." he started to say.

The Louisiana attorney never flinched. The arbiter now had eyes on the IAB agent.

"Is there, Sergeant Stetler?" he asked again.

"No."

"Thank you, Sir."

Rick immediately gathered himself. "Miss Stockburne admitted to me when I questioned her that she really didn't remember."

Duke smiled slightly. "Sergeant, would you turn to Page Ten in the investigative report, please?"

Rick made a slapping sound as he frustratingly flipped through pages. The arbiter followed along on his copy.

Duke tipped his head up as he looked at the stapled report. "Is that your signature with date and time, Sergeant Stetler?"

"Yes, it is."

The weathered lawyer nodded knowingly. December 22nd, three-thirty in the afternoon. According to Miss Stockburne's hospital records, she had been given heavy doses Tylox, Motrin, and a Heparin IV. In other words, when you questioned my client, she couldn't possibly have been of sound mind. Isn't that one of the provisions for investigative questioning, Sergeant Stetler?"

Rick huffed now. "Miss Stockburne was alert enough to help Tyler Jensen with an important case. The first time I saw her, she was working on a laptop computer from her hospital bed."

"I understand that. But that's something she's done for years. There's a difference between something you've done for years and something you've done once, wouldn't you agree?"

Duke poked his head out the door. "Emmie, would you come in here, young lady?"

Carefully, Emmie hoisted herself up on her crutches and placed them under her arms. The pain killers still numbed her.

"Want me to go in with you, Sweetheart?" her father asked.

The computer tech dipped her head. "I'll be okay, Dad. Whatever happens happens."

Her father nodded. "You'll be okay."

Emmie stood on her crutches and faced the gray-haired arbiter as Rick looked on, obviously weary from the argument.

"Miss Stockburne, it is the findings of this arbitration hearing that the cause of the crash on December 20th is inconclusive. From what little evidence Internal Affairs was able to gather, and in light of your heroic acts during the storm in which you saved the life of Lieutenant Horatio Caine, this arbitration board finds you not guilty of any negligence. There will be no marks on your employment record, and you will not be charged in any way for the damages caused. This arbitration is legally binding. With that, the matter is closed."

Despite the numbing of her pain killers, Emmie propelled herself out into the hallway with an unmistakable smile. Frank Stockburne and Duke DuQuesne stood up to meet her. She immediately hugged her father. "He did it!" she nearly sobbed into his shoulder.

When Frank Stockburne released his daughter, he immediately shook the Louisiana lawyer's hand. "Mr. DuQuesne, I wish I could thank you enough. The job's yours. Can you be there Monday morning?"

Duke gripped the CEO's hand with a proud, tired smile. "Well, Sir, I'd be more than glad to. I tell you, it's nice to know I've still got it."

"You've still got it. We're gonna need somebody like you."

Calleigh stepped into the hallway. "Hey, Dad. Sounds like a celebration." She had an expectant smile. "Well?"

"Lambchop! You're looking at the new head of legal affairs for the Stockburne Holdings office in New Orleans" he said with a proud smile.

The ballistics expert hugged his arm. "I knew you could do it, Dad."

Frank smiled as he shook hands with Calleigh. "You must be Calleigh DuQuesne. I'm Frank Stockburne. I'm Emmie's dad."

Calleigh smiled at him now. "Nice to meet you. And thanks for everything."

He nodded proudly. "The company's been looking to open a New Orleans office to help rebuild after Katrina, and we'll need legal counsel. I told your dad that if he could clear my daughter of this investigation, the job was his."

Calleigh smiled proudly to her father. "See, Dad? I knew you still had it."

"Well, I'm afraid I'm not gonna be seeing you much, Calleigh. Mr. Stockburne here says I'm gonna hit the ground running, and I'll be going back and forth to New Orleans once in a while. But I'll be sure to bring you back something every time."

"That's okay, Dad" his daughter whispered as she held his arm. "Just take it easy on the drinking, okay?"

Frank Stockburne could only hug his daughter as she balanced on her crutches. "I'm just glad you're okay, Sweetheart" he said as she held him tightly.

Emmie rested her head on her father's strong shoulder for what seemed a long time. Nobody paid attention as the room behind them had emptied. Rick had nothing to say to anyone. He simply glanced at the celebratory hugs and carried his folders down the blue hallway.

Calleigh hugged her father's arm. Emmie held her father tightly. Finally, Frank Stockburne and Kenwall DuQuesne faced one another and looked into each other's eyes. Both of them just laughed as their proud daughters watched.

"See you bright and early Monday, Duke?" Frank Stockburne asked, shaking his hand.

"You got it, Sir" he assured.


	23. A Sort of Homecoming

**Chapter 23—A Sort of Homecoming**

Frank Stockburne wore a polo shirt that was the same shade of blue as the Miami sky. Like everyone else, he was just relieved that it was all over—the rain as well as his daughter's ordeal. Through his mirrored sunglasses he looked up gratefully at the clear sky and then faced his guests. Members of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab and their guests sat in the shaded white chairs and watched him.

"First of all, I want to thank all of you for coming here today. If you're anything like me, you hate those long, boring political speeches, so I'll just keep it short. This is a special occasion for our family. Not only did you all help bring our daughter Emmie back safely, but also because I found out this week that she's been awarded a special citation by Lieutenant Caine." He put his hands together. "Everybody give yourselves a hand. All of you did a great job!"

The sound of applause echoed from the white pavilion.

The CEO smiled. "We knew that, in some little way, this family had to say thank you for what you did. So today, our home is your home. The whole Stockburne-Parr family is here, three generations of us, and I'm glad your families are as well. So without anymore boring speeches, because I know everybody's had a busy couple of weeks, I'll just let you know." He gestured with his hand. "Our pool and hot tub are over there to your right. Eat as much as you want. The food is in the main dining room behind you. So grab some food, sit back, relax, enjoy yourselves, and make some new friends." He stood back with a smile and held up his arm. "Thank you. Now go have fun."

Calleigh wore a tank top and shorts as she sat next to Delko at the pool's edge. Calleigh gently kicked the pool water, while five of Emmie's young cousins had their eyes glued to Delko.

"So you're a real diver?" one of them asked.

Calleigh smiled as Delko seemed to enjoy the attention. "That's right. Great way to get a girlfriend" he said with his boyish grin, glancing back at Calleigh.

Two of the boys wrinkled their faces. "Ewww!"

Delko never stopped grinning. "Watch this! I'll show you how to do the perfect cannonball."

Alexx sat at the white-clothed table and chatted with some other ladies when her son and daughter came up to her.

"Mom, can we go swimming? Mr. Delko is teaching us how to do cannonballs!"

Alexx smiled. "Go ahead, Sweetie." She smiled after them as they ran in the direction of the pool.

A brown-haired girl in a pretty red party dress and black shoes approached her. She carried a porcelain doll in a dark blue Victorian dress and bonnet.

"Well, hello there, Sweetie" the M.E. said, leaning down to her. "Oh, now that's a beautiful doll you're carrying." Alexx reached over and put a hand on the little girl's shoulder. "And what a pretty dress. What's your name?"

"My name's Tabitha" the little girl said, looking at the M.E. with some wonder.

"Tabitha? What a pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Aunt Emmie says you're a real doctor."

"That's right."

Tabitha pouted slightly as she held up her Victorian doll. "Lizzie's not feeling well. Can you make her feel better?"

Alexx gasped delightfully as she held the rustling doll and gently looked it over. Playfully she held her hand up to her chin. "Well, let's see now. Hmm. I think Lizzie's just been missing you. If you hold her for one hour, she'll feel all better." With a smile she gently handed the doll back.

Tabitha smiled at her. "Really?"

"Really."

The little girl clutched Lizzie tightly. "Thank you!" With that she walked away.

"You're welcome" Alexx called out with a delighted smile.

Delko stood at the edge of the pool, water dripping off him, as he lifted his last new little friend out of the pool. He couldn't help but notice that Frank now strolled by, eating cake from a paper plate. He glanced up at him. "Hey. Looks like you're starting 'em young, Delko."

Getting that boyish grin again, he looked at the two boy and three girls who watched him eagerly now. He nodded with a resolve.

"Okay! Everybody ready? Cannonball!" he shouted. In unison, Delko's five little friends shrieked as they grabbed their knees and followed Delko into the pool in unison, sending up a wave that doused Frank and his cake.

Frank dropped his wet cake and shook off his brown suit. "Delko! You…." He quickly censored himself around the young ears. He wiped off the top of his head and walked away, wringing out his brown jacket.

"That's why you want to know how to do the perfect cannonball" he said with his wet, boyish grin. His new little friends laughed as they hung onto the side of the pool.

Emmie leaned her crutches on the table as she sat in the pavilion. She perched her injured leg up on a white chair as she watched her co-workers enjoy themselves. Ryan sat with her.

"It was really nice of your family to do this" Ryan said as he watched out on the lawn. "Looks like everybody's having fun."

The computer tech smiled. "I'm just glad to be home."

Chelsea, her five-year-old second cousin, sat nearby, bouncing in her flowery dress.

"Chelsea?"

The little girl looked at her aunt.

Emmie pointed to Horatio. "See that tall, red-haired man in the black suit with the sunglasses?"

The curly-haired little girl whipped her head around and then looked back at her elder cousin. "Uh huh."

"That's Lieutenant Caine. That's a real superhero."

Chelsea smiled. "Really?"

"I bet he'd really like it if you gave him a hug" she said with a smile.

The little girl trotted over to Horatio and immediately wrapped her arm around one leg. The Lieutenant smiled and stroked her hair. "Well. What was that for?" he asked her with a delighted surprise.

The little blonde-haired girl looked up at him. "My Aunt Emmie says you're a real hero."

He gently picked her up. "Actually, your Aunt Emmie was the hero. What's your name?"

"Chelsea."

"I had to do that" she said with a smile. Ryan chuckled.

Both of them leaned away as a wet, dripping Frank walked under the shade and began to blot his tie and shirt with a white towel.

"Tripp, aren't you supposed to get changed before you go swimming?" Ryan kidded.

The detective scowled at him. "Yeah, right! Delko's little swimming club did a cannonball right in front of me!" He now took off his wet brown jacket. "I'm gonna go dry off and get a beer!"

"You gonna want to take a boat ride with Uncle Edwin, Ryan?" Emmie asked.

He pursed his lips in thought. "Don't know. You coming?"

"Uh huh. It's really beautiful to go down the canal in the sunset. Just be careful. Uncle Edwin likes to make sure you've had enough beer."

Suddenly Emmie pointed out at the lawn and giggled.

"What is it?" Ryan wanted to know.

"Oh my God, will you look at this!"

Horatio now walked carefully across the lawn toward the shade. He still held Chelsea on his hip. She rested her little head trustingly on his shoulder and clung to his jacket lapel. Three other little girls in party dresses now walked closely behind him, each one clutching the hem of his black jacket in their fists. He still wore his sunglasses and smiled slightly.

"Mr. Wolfe. Miss Stockburne" he said matter-of-factly.

"Sir, I always knew you were the ladies' man" Emmie said between laughs.

Through his sunglasses he glanced down. "Well, it would seem word got out that I'm some kind of hero." He then turned back toward the house with his entourage. "Ladies, what do you say we go back up to the house and get something to drink?"

The little girls turned with the Lieutenant, still clutching his black jacket, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah!"

He smiled. "Maybe we'll see you two on the boat ride." And with that he left.


	24. Epilogue

**Chapter 24—Fair Skies Tomorrow**

**A/N: This is the final chapter of this story. I want to thank all of you for your patience while I get our business off the ground. I also want to thank all of you for your kind reviews. I just wanted to finish this while I had a chance so you wouldn't have to wait so long. Next story will be Talladega Nightmares.**

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><p>Natalia sat on the old, worn blue sofa and glanced all around her. She wanted to respect the peaceful, quiet feel the old, gentle house had about it.<p>

Angela Miller sat down in a faded brown armchair opposite from the CSI. "Thanks for coming, Miss, uh…."

"Boa Vista" she corrected.

Angela Miller nodded numbly. "Boa Vista." She furrowed her eyebrows. "Interesting name. Can I get you anything, Miss, uh, Boa Vista?"

Smokey lumbered up to Natalia and sniffed her legs and feet. She gently patted his curious gray nose. "No Ma'am, thank you. I'm just here to let you know what happened."

She looked down numbly as though to brace herself. "It wasn't an accident, was it?"

The CSI paused. "No, it wasn't. We found evidence that your car's brakes were tampered with, Mrs. Miller. We've arrested several suspects in the case."

The lady continued to look down, but she furrowed her eyebrows. "_Several_ suspects?"

"Mrs. Miller—"

She suddenly looked up. "Did Melissa Matherson have anything to do with this?" she almost demanded.

Natalia paused. "Yes, Ma'am."

The gentle, elegant, blonde-haired widow seemed resigned to her fate. She settled back in the armchair and nodded sadly. "When we left Houston, I figured it was finally over between my husband and Melissa." She looked down at the old coffee table and absentmindedly followed the scratches. "I knew what was going on between Eric and that woman. I guess I just didn't want to accept it."

The brown-haired CSI looked around the old, simple house now. Angela Miller studied her. "I know what you're thinking" she finally said. "It's okay. You can ask."

"Ma'am?"

"I guess you know all about our lottery winnings. You're probably wondering how we could have all that money and live like this. Why don't we have a Star Island mansion or a villa in the South of France or something, right?"

Natalia shrugged. "In my line of work, you see people do all kinds of things."

Angela Miller suddenly changed from being a grieving widow to an understanding older woman. "When Eric and I first started out, we lived in a basement apartment in Colorado. Do you know how cold it gets in the Rockies? It starts to drop below freezing in October. But looking back, we did all right. Eric was a deejay, and I was the secretary at a small station. We lived pretty simply. We thought we were struggling. Then we won that lottery." She leaned back and sighed. "We thought our hardships were over, but they were just getting started. Word got out, and then they started to show up at our door. Literally."

"They?"

"Strangers in need, long-lost relatives we never knew we had. So-and-so needed an operation. Low-lifes would tell us how we could triple our earnings with such-and-such a land deal. Eric's truck got broken into twice. I guess people were looking for money. We liked that little basement apartment, but the landlady threw us out because of all the nutjobs that were coming around and harassing us. Eric didn't really want to give up broadcasting, and I loved working at that little station. But there was no going back. We were the big-time lottery winners. We finally changed our names and left the state." She sighed. "Funny. You don't know what you have until it's gone. We couldn't have the one thing we really wanted. We just wanted peace and quiet and to live our lives. Some things you just can't put a price tag on, Miss Boa Vista."

Natalia simply nodded as she listened.

"So we kept enough for ourselves to pay off some debts. Buy a new pickup truck. Eric went back to college and got his meteorology degree. We kept the money in an account in the Cayman Islands and just took out a little bit when we wanted to spoil ourselves. We've had this house, we've had each other, and old Smokey here keeps me company. No, Eric and I learned that all those things just wear out after a while." She looked at the sad old Weimaraner who glanced up and thumped his tail on the hardwood floor at the sound of his name.

"Something I don't understand, though, Mrs. Miller."

"What's that, dear?"

"You went through all the trouble of changing your names and leaving Colorado. But Eric Miller was in a job where he was on TV all the time."

Angela Miller shrugged. "That's how much he loved what he did. The lottery thing had blown over. But I guess the wrong people found out who we were." She looked down again. "Miss Boa Vista, Melissa Matherson's not going to get any money from Eric's will, is she?"

"I'm not an estate attorney, Mrs. Miller. But she's never going to be a problem to you ever again."

She now buried her hand in her face. "I miss him" she sobbed quietly.

Natalia wanted to reach out and hug the woman. She could only remember Nick. Despite the pain, she understood what the woman was going through. Nick was dead now, but there had once been a simple love between them, much like this woman experienced. "I know what you're going through" she finally said.

Angela Miller looked up, tears on her face. "You do?"

Natalia shrugged with a sad smile. "I've sort of been there." She paused. "So what do you think you'll do now?"

"I don't know, dear." She looked distantly out the picture window. "Are you a widow too?"

"Yes and no" Natalia told her with a sad smile. "We split up, and he's dead now."

Angela Miller held out her hand and kissed. "Smokey? Come here, boy." The gray Weimaraner sadly lumbered over to his owner and put his gray head under her hand. She gently petted him as he sat with his eyes closed blissfully. His cropped tail thumped on the hardwood floor. "Smokey's still waiting for Daddy to come home and play with him. I guess it's gonna take some time for us. I know. Maybe I should just go somewhere and blow some of that money." She sighed deeply. "I just don't feel the need."

"Have you ever thought about donating it to a charity? A battered women's shelter, perhaps?"

"That might be a good thing. Lord knows I'd just rather take a long walk, well, with Smokey." She looked at the floor. "Now that Eric's gone. I wish I could thank you enough, Miss Boa Vista. And I'm sorry about your husband."

"Thank you, Ma'am." Natalia stood up. "I better go now. Call us if there's anything else we can do."

The widow stood up behind her. Smokey walked dutifully next to his owner as she followed Natalia to the brown front door. "Well, thank you, dear, I mean, Officer."

"'Dear' is fine" Natalia said with a smile. "If there are any new developments, I'll certainly call you." She shook hands with the pretty, blonde-haired widow. "Take care, Mrs. Miller."

* * *

><p>Emmie typed on the laptop that was balanced on her injured leg when she heard a knock at the door. "It's open!"<p>

Ryan carried more case files in his arms as he slowly opened her front door. "How you feeling?"

She looked up from her laptop. "Oh, hi Ryan." She shrugged. "I slept a little. What have you got?"

"More work from the lab. You shouldn't have complained to H that you're bored." He grinned at her as he laid the folders on her coffee table.

She reached for the folders and thumbed through them. "Great. I finished the stack you brought me yesterday. So how are things going over there?"

"Same old." He picked up the stack of folders that she had left on the couch for him. "Got any dinner plans?"

Emmie shrugged at him with a smile. "Not really."

"How about I cook something?"

"I don't want you to trouble yourself, Ryan."

The CSI stepped into her small kitchen and glanced through her cabinets. "It's no trouble at all. Just let me eat some of it too. Okay if I just make up something?"

"Well, whatever it is, it has to be better than Cheese Twists and coffee. I mean, I really can't stand up for too long."

"Sounds good. You just stay there. I'll take care of it."

Emmie set her laptop aside and picked up her TV remote. She flipped through the channels randomly. "I've been working as much as I could. Gonna see what's going on out there."

_From the WTVM Weather Center, for one last recap of Miami-Dade weather, here's our new Senior Meteorologist, Al Coleman._

The tall, blonde-haired meteorologist smiled and clasped his hands as he faced the camera.

"Thank you, Tonya. Thank you, John. Before tonight's last recap of the Miami-Dade regional weather, I'd like to give one last salute to our Heroes of the Day, the Miami-Dade Police Department. Like all of our first responders in the South Florida area, they were some of our real heroes during the storms that we'd had over the last couple of weeks. Miami-Dade Police, give yourselves a round of applause." He paused and smiled again. "Weatherwise, I'm happy to announce that the low pressure system that caused that mess is long gone. It's out of here. We're going to see some warming temperatures with highs in the eighties for the daytime and lows in the sixties. Very slim chance of a pop-up shower over the beaches, but it looks like things will finally be getting back to normal." He smiled again as he faced the camera. "We'll see you on the eleven o'clock broadcast with more weather updates. This is Al Coleman. Good night."


End file.
